CATS  PAW 

William  Hamilton  Osborne 


E  LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  Of  CAUFQBMLA 
LOS 


THE  CATSPAW 


Roxane 


THE    CATSPAW 


By 


WILLIAM  HAMILTON  OSBORNE 

Author  of 
"The  Red  Mouse,"  "The  Running  Fight,"  Etc. 


With  Illustrations  by 
F.  GRAHAM   COOTES 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 
1911 

THE  LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


COPYRIGHT,  1911,  BY 

WILLIAM  HAMILTON  OSBORNE 
Published,  March,  1911 


TO 

K.  H.  O. 


2137530 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  ROXANE  ENTERS  TOWN  ....         i 

II  A  WELCOME  INTRUDER  .       .       .       .       13 

III  JULES  GASPARD  FIGURES  MORE  OR  LESS      24 

IV  MR.  BONWIT  UNDER  BONDS  ...       39 
V    DUPES 52 

VI  THE  SLICK  MR.  ST.  JOHN     .       .       .71 

VII  THE  RICHEST  GIRL  IN  TOWN       .       .       87 

VIII  A  PECULIAR  COMBINATION     .       .       .     102 

IX  THE  ADVANTAGES  OF   PLAYING  POKER     120 

X  SHADOWED          .       .       .       .       .       .     137 

XI  INSIDE  INFORMATION       .       .       .       .146 

XII  THE  KEYBOARD  CIPHER  ....     162 

XIII  MRS.   SHACKLETON'S   MATCHED   PEARL 

NECKLACE      .       .       .       .       .       .     190 

XIV  A  PURSUIT  IN  PRIVATE  .       .       .       .213 
XV  THE  LEOPARD'S  SPOTS     ....     232 

XVI  A  DINNER  EXTRAORDINARY     .       .       .255 

XVII  ROXANE  TURNS  INFORMER     .'       .       .     273 

XVIII  THE   DISCLOSURE      .       .       .       .       .     295 

XIX  WHAT  FOLLOWED     .       .       .       .       .315 

XX  WHAT'S  IN  A  NAME?            .       .       .     321 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


ROXANE Frontispiece 


FACING 
PAGE 


SHE  MOTIONED  TO  HIM  TO  SIT  DOWN  BESIDE 
HER 20 

KlTTREDGE    ST.    JOHN 1 30 

STEPPING  QUICKLY  TO  THE  WALL,  SHE  TURNED 
A  BUTTON 248 


CHAPTER  I 

KOXANE  ENTERS  TOWN 

IT  would  be  absurd  to  say — though  some  did — 
that  it  never  could  have  happened  anywhere  else; 
nor  was  it  a  question  of  keeping  eyes  and  ears 
open;  it  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  pecu- 
liarly obstinate  refusal,  at  least  on  the  part  of 
her  admirers,  to  see  the  woman  as  she  really  was. 
Had  her  antecedent  existence  not  been  shrouded  in 
mystery,  then,  of  course,  it  is  probable.  .  .  . 
But  for  the  better  understanding  of  the  remarkable 
career  of  Roxane  Bellairs — for  as  such  the  good 

people  of  M will  ever  remember  her — it  is 

necessary  to  begin  at  the  beginning,  or,  to  be  more 
exact,  with  her  advent  upon  the  arena  of  events 
on  the  1 3th  of  May,  190 — . 

In  connection  with  her  arrival  at  the  station  two 
features,  however  trivial,  are  perhaps  worthy  of 
notice :  first,  that  the  lady's  trunks  and  boxes — both 
in  quality  and  quantity — shattered  all  the  local 
traditions  in  the  individual-luggage  class;  second, 
— and  largely  consequent  upon  the  first, — that  the 


2  THE  CATSPAW 

appearance  of  the  lady  herself,  despite  the  sim- 
plicity of  her  costume,  created  a  stir  among  the 
people  on  the  platform  that  fell  but  little  short 
of  being  a  sensation.  As  for  the  station-master, 
that  individual  underwent,  obviously,  a  strenuous 
quarter  of  an  hour;  but  when  the  last  leather  re- 
ceptacle had  been  dragged  from  the  car  and  deftly 
landed  on  the  very  top  of  the  huge  pile  of  her 
belongings,  he  faced  about,  and  in  joyful  contem- 
plation of  the  battle  that  was  to  come,  ejaculated: 
"  She's  got  'em  all  beat !  Mrs.  Tony,  take  it 
straight  from  me,  won't  be  one-two-three  with 
this  one !  "  And  here,  parenthetically,  it  should  be 
added,  that,  although  social  distinctions  might 
seem  to  be  somewhat  out  of  his  line,  he  knew  who 
was  who,  did  Bowles,  the  station-master. 

But  apparently  oblivious  to  the  attention  she 
was  attracting,  and  showing  no  evidence  whatever 
of  that  uncertainty  of  purpose, — so  noticeable  in 
strangers, — this  quiet-looking  young  woman  stood 
for  a  moment  or  two  upon  the  platform,  giving 
Bowles  explicit  directions.  Then,  hailing  a  cab 
and  declining  with  rare  discrimination  the  cabby's 
earnest  entreaties  that  she  should  put  up  at  the 
Jermyn,— the  newest  and  most  pretentious  hos- 


ROXANE  ENTERS  TOWN  3 

telry, — she  directed  him  to  jog  along  slowly  to- 
wards the  centre  of  the  town  until  told  to  stop — 
an  order  that  he  received  when  opposite  the  ex- 
clusive Indian  Queen,  the  town's  oldest  and  most 
representative  family  hotel. 

Now,  whether  what  followed  was  part  of  a 
carefully  concocted  plan  or  that  luck  was  with  her 
to  an  extraordinary  extent,  it  was  certain  that  no 
sooner  had  her  cab  come  to  a  standstill  before 
the  chosen  inn  than  there  dashed  about  the  cor- 
ner a  well-turned-out  coach,  whose  guard  an- 
nounced the  termination  of  the  journey  with  a 
shrill  and  not  unmusical  blow  of  a  trumpet,  and 
whose  driver — despite  the  fact  that  the  skittish 
and  high-strung  bays  seemed,  when  rounding  the 
corner,  to  be  all  up  in  the  air  at  once — managed 
his  four  so  skilfully  that  they  were  perfectly  in 
hand  before  he  pulled  them  up  at  the  curb, 
his  off-leader, — tame  as  a  kitten,  the  moment 
he  was  brought  to  a  standstill, — proceeding 
at  once  to  rub  noses  with  the  worn  and  jaded 
equine  that  belonged  to  the  stranger's  convey- 
ance. 

On  the  point  of  alighting,  one  small  gloved  hand 
resting  on  the  window-sill,  the  woman's  intention 


4  THE  CATSPAW 

was,  apparently,  stayed  by  the  sudden  advent  of 
the  tally-ho;  and,  sinking  quietly  back  into  a  cor- 
ner of  her  cab,  she  contented  herself  with  a  lan- 
guid but  comprehensive  survey  of  the  passengers — 
all  of  them,  as  she  was  soon  to  learn,  prominent 
in  the  town's  most  fashionable,  smartest  (or 
whatever  the  latest  word  is)  set — who  were  de- 
scending one  by  one  to  the  sidewalk,  where  they 
stood  laughing  and  chatting.  Presently  she 
slightly  shifted  her  position  and  let  her  gaze  pass 
to  the  off-leader,  from  him  to  his  fellow,  thence 
to  the  wheeler,  and  from  thence  along  the  lines 
to  the  whip.  It  travelled  no  farther. 

For,  almost  at  the  same  instant,  the  blond- 
bearded  individual  on  the  box,  raising  his  head, 
focused  his  attention  on  the  cab;  and,  unob- 
served by  any  of  his  party,  the  eyes  of  the  man 
and  the  woman  met  in  a  glance  that  was  clearly 
one  of  mutual  admiration,  even  if  he  could  not 
keep  a  semi-amused  expression  from  showing  on 
his  face.  As  for  the  woman,  she,  evidently,  was 
satisfied  with  the  message  that  she  had  read;  and, 
quickly  leaving  the  cab  and  crossing  the  broad 
sidewalk  to  the  hotel  entrance — the  cabby  trail- 
ing on  behind  with  her  hand-bag, — she  stepped  up 


ROXANE  ENTERS  TOWN  5 

to  the  desk  where,  in  a  firm,  bold  hand,  she  wrote 
her  name  upon  the  register.  Before,  however,  the 
clerk  could  follow  this  action  with  the  customary 
civilities,  she  leaned  toward  him  and  inquired  in 
a  low  voice,  which  showed  just  a  trace  of  foreign 
accent : — 

"  The  gentleman  who  drove  the  coach — what  is 
his  name,  please?  " 

At  that  moment  the  coaching-party  held  the 
clerk's  attention  to  the  exclusion  of  all  others; 
but  when  they  had  passed  on  to  the  palm-room,  he 
turned  to  the  new  arrival  and  said: — 

"  I  beg  pardon,  madam,  that's  Mr.  Kittredge 
St.  John." 

"  Oh !  "  fell  from  the  woman's  lips.  "  I  was 
merely  curious.  ..." 

The  clerk  favoured  her  with  a  smile.  It  was 
not  the  first  time  that  this  question  had  been 
put  to  him  by  fair  admirers  of  the  handsome 
driver  of  the  coach.  And  now,  beckoning  to  a 
hall-boy, — to  whom  the  cabby  delivered  the  hand- 
bag,— he  told  him  to  take  the  lady  to  the  Hobart 
suite, — so  called  from  the  time  that  it  had  been 
occupied  by  New  Jersey's  favourite  son, — add- 
ing :— 


6  THE  CATSPAW 

"They're  the  finest  rooms  in  the  house, 
madam;  we've  held  them  since  your  wire." 

Acknowledging  his  courtesy  with  a  slight  in- 
clination of  the  head,  the  lady  started  to  follow 
the  boy,  suddenly  halted,  hesitated  a  moment,  and 
finally  retraced  her  steps. 

"  I've  decided  to  lunch  before  going  up,"  she 
said.  "The  dining-room,  please.  ..." 

She  was  informed  that,  besides  the  general 
dining-room,  there  was  the  grill-  or  palm-room; 
she  chose  the  latter;  in  fact,  said  she  preferred  it. 
When  she  entered  the  low-studded,  festive-looking 
room,  St.  John  and  his  party  were  already  seated 
and  were  the  objects  of  well-bred  curiosity.  At 
a  glance,  however,  she  espied  a  lone  table  in  a 
far  corner;  quickly  she  appropriated  it,  for  it 
suited  well  her  purpose  to  feast  her  eyes  upon  the 
handsome,  well-remembered  face  of  the  young  man 
who  sat  at  the  head  of  a  long  table  surrounded  by 
his  friends — a  purpose  that  no  one  there  sus- 
pected, save,  perhaps,  the  man  himself. 

And,  indeed,  what  with  his  light,  curly  hair,  his 
fun-loving  eyes,  a  face  tanned  by  the  wind  and  sun, 
blond  moustache  and  beard,  and  well-cut  clothes 
fitting  a  superb  figure,  this  Kittredge  St.  John  was 


ROXANE  ENTERS  TOWN  7 

a  very  promising-looking  young  man,  notwith- 
standing the  fact  that  a  further  acquaintance  with 
him  is  likely  to  reveal  certain  qualities  that,  how- 
ever admirable  for  his  designs,  are  not  generally 
attributed  to  a  man  of  fashion.  But  no  matter 
how  little  deserving  of  approval  was  his  life,  in 
appearance,  at  least,  he  was  everything  that  a 
gentleman  should  be;  while  his  personality  was 
precisely  the  kind  that  charms  and  is  sought  after 
by  society — society  as  represented  by  the  young 
men-about-town  and  debutantes.  In  short,  he 
seemed  a  most  desirable  person  to  know. 

It  was  several  moments,  therefore,  before  the 
lady,  lunching  by  herself,  found  time  to  take  stock 
of  the  members  of  his  party.  The  men,  she  per- 
ceived, were  pretty  much  of  a  type;  the  women 
looked  smart  and  were  mostly  of  the  sort  that 
men  call  amusing.  There  was  one  tall,  slender 
girl,  however,  of  a  little  different  stamp,  who  sat 
on  St.  John's  right;  and  the  stranger  noted — not 
without  a  shade  of  anxiety  crossing  her  face — that 
he,  evidently,  had  singled  her  out  as  being  more 
worthy  of  his  solicitude  than  the  rest  of  his  guests; 
in  fact,  the  assiduity  and  perseverance  of  his  at- 
tentions to  his  neighbour  were  so  marked  as  the 


8  THE  CATSPAW 

meal  proceeded  that  the  woman's  face  became  a 
trifle  hard.  But  presently,  perhaps  as  a  result  of 
scanning  the  girl  narrowly,  her  face  broke  into 
a  smile  of  satisfaction,  and  summoning  her  waiter 
she  put  to  him,  under  pretence  of  giving  an  order, 
some  pertinent  inquiries,  the  conversation  being 
carried  on  in  French. 

All  this  time  the  men  of  St.  John's  party  were 
not  unmindful,  needless  to  say,  of  the  fact  that 
this  remarkably  attractive  and  unattended  young 
woman  was  sitting  at  a  small  nearby  table.  Not 
a  moment  went  by  without  one  of  them  covertly 
casting  an  approving  glance  in  her  direction, 
though,  singularly  enough,  St.  John  failed  to  give 
any  sign  of  being  aware  of  her  presence  there. 
Now  her  meal  was  finished;  but  before  leaving  she 
gave  a  hasty,  critical  look  at  her  soft,  woollen 
gown  of  the  shade  known  as  wistaria — a  colour 
that  she  always  affected  either  in  the  gown  itself 
or  the  details  of  it — and,  after  reassuring  herself 
that  it  fitted  the  lines  of  her  figure  so  perfectly 
that  every  woman  present  could  not  help  being 
envious,  she  rose  and  undulated  slowly  past  St. 
John's  pleasure-seeking,  animated-looking  guests. 
And  that  her  departure  was  well  timed,  were  she 


ROXANE  ENTERS  TOWN  9 

desirous  of  attracting  further  attention,  was  evi- 
denced by  the  exclamations  which  fell  from  every 
lip  the  moment  she  passed  out  of  the  room,  even 
the  rather  indifferent  Miss  Paget  turning  to  her 
nearest  neighbour  with : — 

"  Pretty,  isn't  she !    I  wonder  who  can  she  be  ?  " 

But  as  everybody  present  was  asking  the  same 
question,  no  answer  was  forthcoming;  and  in  con- 
sequence the  pompously  amiable  Mr.  Bonwit,  of 
the  Manufacturers'  National,  forgot  his  dignity  so 
far  as  to  tiptoe  from  the  table  into  the  corridor 
for  a  last  fleeting  glance  of  the  fair  stranger,  while 
even  Mrs.  Tony  Shackleton  was  so  exercised  that 
she  despatched  Jerome  Olyphant  to  look  her  up- 
on the  hotel  register.  $\ 

"  Hold  on,  Jerry,  I'll  go  with  you !  "  sang  out 
Major  Holbrook  from  his  side  of  the  table. 
"Two  heads,  you  know  ..." 

"  In  a  multitude  of  counsellors  there  is  much 
wisdom,"  piped  up  little  Varnum,  rising  from  his 
place  on  the  other  side  of  Dorothy  Paget;  and 
together  the  three  renegades  turned  their  backs 
upon  the  women  they  knew  to  find  out  all  they 
could  about  the  woman  they  did  not  know. 

Their  return  was  almost  boisterous. 


io  THE  CATSPAW 

"  She's  gone !  "  they  announced  in  chorus,  and 
fell  into  their  chairs. 

"Gone?"  asked  St.  John,  half-rising,  and  for 
the  first  time  showing  any  interest. 

"...  gone  where  nobody  can  see  her," 
laughed  the  Major.  "  She's  got  the  Hobart  suite 
on  the  second  floor." 

"  And  her  name,"  chirped  in  little  Varnum,  "  is 
Mrs.  Bellairs — I  took  it  down." 

"  From  Quebec,"  added  Olyphant. 

Whereupon  Mrs.  Tony  Shackleton  permitted 
herself  a  little  time  for  reflection.  The  invasion 
of  a  stranger  was  always  a  matter  of  moment. 
But  however  fine  an  example  the  lady  had  just 
given  of  a  sweet  and  unobtrusive  manner,  Mrs. 
Tony  felt  it  incumbent  upon  her  to  divine  whether 
or  not  it  was  merely  a  mask  to  cover  a  wickedness 
too  subtle  for  mere  man  to  understand.  Curiously 
enough,  however,  any  inclination  she  may  have 
had  to  announce  her  conviction  that  the  lady  had 
a  past,  was  lost  in  an  admiration  that  was  born 
of  her  own  secret  hope  of  a  future,  and  there 
was  almost  a  note  of  envy  in  the  voice  that 
declared : — 

11  At  any  rate,  she's  a  thoroughbred  1  "    Which 


ROXANE  ENTERS  TOWN  n 

remark  met  with  a  storm  of  approval  from  the 
male  members  of  St.  John's  party,  Mr.  Bonwit 
smiting  the  table  with  his  pudgy  hand  until  the 
glasses  rang  as  he  cried  out: — 

"  Capital !  Good  for  you,  Mrs.  Tony ! "  And, 
turning  to  his  neighbour,  he  added :  "  Miss  Paget, 
how  about  you  ?  What  do  you  think  .  .  .  ?  " 

For  some  reason,  known  only  to  herself,  Miss 
Paget  answered  the  question  with  a  question: — 

"What's  Mr.  St.  John's  opinion  of  her?" 

St.  John  started  out  of  a  reverie. 

"Let  me  see  her  name?"  that  gentleman  be- 
gan, a  little  absently.  "That  slip  of  paper, 
Archie,  and  I'll  tell  you  ..." 

Although  St.  John  had  succeeded  well  in  not 
being  observed,  all  through  the  meal  he  had 
watched  the  person  now  being  discussed.  He 
noted  how,  at  first,  no  one  could  approach  her 
table  without  her  face  showing  a  startled  look; 
how  she  repeatedly  glanced  toward  the  entrance; 
that  she  did  not  wholly  recover  her  composure 
until  some  time  had  passed.  But  that  Mrs. 
Shackleton,  with  her  somewhat  limited  knowledge 
of  the  world,  should  venture  to  pass  any  kind  of 
judgment  on  the  stranger,  struck  him  as  having 


12  THE  CATSPAW 

its  amusing  side.  Nevertheless,  after  toying  care- 
lessly with  the  card,  he  answered : — ; 

"  I  agree  with  Mrs.  Tony."  And  then  added 
significantly:  "  She's  a  thoroughbred,  all  right!  " 

Mrs.  Tony  thought  she  detected  a  note  of  dis- 
paragement in  his  tone. 

"  But  what  on  earth  could  a  woman  of  that  sort 
do  in  our  town?"  she  asked  ingenuously — a  ques- 
tion which  was  immediately  followed  by  a  ridicu- 
lous exhibition  of  self-consciousness  on  the  part 
of  every  man  present. 

As  for  the  subject  of  their  conversation,  she 
had  proceeded  to  her  suite  of  rooms,  where  trunks 
and  boxes  in  profusion  awaited  her.  Nothing  more 
was  seen  of  her  that  afternoon;  nor  did  she  leave 
her  apartments  in  the  evening.  And  so  far  as  the 
hotel  knew,  and  so  far  as  the  town  knew,  Louis, 
the  waiter,  who  had  served  her  in  the  palm-room 
and  likewise  with  a  slight  repast  at  seven  o'clock, 
was  the  last  person  to  see  her  that  night. 


CHAPTER  II 

A  WELCOME   INTRUDER 

THE  Indian  Queen  Hotel  rests  on  an  eminence 
near  the  centre  of  the  town.  From  its  broad  win- 
dows a  good  view  is  to  be  had  of  the  city  stretch- 
ing to  the  north  as  far  as  the  distant  hills.  To 
the  east,  and  directly  below  the  Hobart  suite,  are 
the  hotel  gardens  with  their  carefully  kept  shrubs, 
plants,  and  flowers. 

That  the  new  occupant  of  these  apartments  re- 
garded them  with  approval  goes  without  saying. 
Never  in  her  career — and  it  was  afterwards  said 
that  she  had  somehow  contrived  to  have  always  a 
gorgeous  setting  for  her  base  of  exploits — had  she 
found  surroundings  more  to  her  liking.  Luxuri- 
ous by  nature — though  for  reasons  which  will  be 
seen  later  she  had  dispensed  with  the  services  of 
a  maid — she  wandered  from  room  to  room,  busy- 
ing herself  with  making  herself  thoroughly  at 
home  and  revelling  in  the  big,  old-fashioned 
closets,  the  comfortable  chairs,  and  dainty  furnish- 
ings. But,  as  the  evening  hours  slipped  by,  she 

13 


I4  THE  CATSPAW 

was  conscious  of  a  feeling  that  is,  perhaps,  best 
described  as  depression.  It  was  plain  that  she 
was  mentally  disturbed;  that  there  was  something 
on  her  mind  from  which  she  could  not  escape ;  and, 
under  the  stress  of  this  emotion,  she  walked  to 
and  fro  from  one  room  to  another.  It  had  noth- 
ing to  do  with  her  arrival  in  the  town — she  was 
perfectly  well  aware  of  the  excellent  impression 
she  had  made.  Indeed,  there  was  no  need  for 
anxiety  on  that  point,  since  a  superb  cheval  glass 
reflected  an  exquisitely  beautiful  woman,  tall,  with 
deep  blue  eyes  and  dark  hair,  robed  in  a  marvel- 
lous violet-strewn  crepe-de-chine  gown  that  accen- 
tuated the  slight,  long-waisted  figure — such  as  one 
sees  nowadays — in  a  way  that  made  it  appear  de- 
cidedly girlish.  At  last  this  feeling,  apparently, 
was  overpowering  her,  and,  with  an  impulsive 
movement  of  irritation,  she  switched  off  the  lights, 
went  over  to  the  window,  drew  back  the  curtains, 
and  stood  for  a  long  time  looking  out  into  the 
night. 

How  quiet  everything  was!  Not  a  soul  to  be 
seen  anywhere!  The  beauty  of  the  scene  held 
her.  After  a  while  the  moon  slipped  behind  some 
clouds,  and  she  was  about  to  let  the  curtains  fall 


A  WELCOME  INTRUDER          15 

when  she  thought  she  discerned  some  one  moving 
stealthily  in  the  garden.  In  a  flash  she  became  the 
self-collected  woman  that  she  really  was,  all  her 
senses  becoming  alert  as  she  quickly  focused  her 
eyes  upon  the  spot  where  she  believed  she  had  seen 
some  one — taking  care  that  the  folds  of  the  heavy 
curtains  should  hide  her  until  she  should  ascer- 
tain whether  her  presentiment  was  right. 

A  minute  passed,  another,  and  still  she  watched. 
But  the  next  moment,  leaning  far  out  of  the  win- 
dow, she  strangled  a  little  cry  of  surprise;  and, 
quickly  letting  the  curtains  fall  back  into  place, 
she  glided  noiselessly  across  the  room  and  tried 
the  locks  of  all  the  doors.  When  she  turned,  a 
man  was  making  his  way  through  one  of  the 
windows. 

"  Kitt!  "  she  whispered. 

"  Right!  "  came  in  a  care-free  voice. 

"Is  it  really  you,  Kitt?"  she  repeated  softly. 

The  man  laughed  lightly. 

"How  did  you  make  it?"  she  went  on. 

For  answer  he  pointed  to  the  window. 

"  I  came  by  the  fire-escape." 

"  But  some  one  must  have  seen  you?  "  she  in- 
quired, alarmed. 


1 6  THE  CATSPAW 

Again  he  smiled. 

"  Have  you  forgotten  so  soon  that  to  move 
unseen  is  my  specialty?"  And,  leading  her  to  a 
window,  he  continued:  "Do  you  see  that  bulky 
edifice  where  the  lights  shine  dimly  from  its  win- 
dows? That  building  is  the  Iroquois  Club.  I'm 
supposed  to  be  there.  Its  lawn  adjoins  on  the 
west;  here  below  us  run  the  hotel  gardens;  I 
crossed  in  the  shadows  and  came  to  you."  He 
clasped  her  now  in  his  arms. 

"  I  hardly  knew  you,  Kitt,  in  that  blond 
beard,"  she  said.  "  And  yet,  your  eyes  ..." 

"You  like  it  then?"  he  asked,  stroking  his 
moustache  with  caressing  white  fingers. 

"  To  tell  the  truth,  I  never  saw  you  looking 
better,"  she  told  him  with  undisguised  admiration. 
"  Of  course,  you  were  handsome  without  it,"  she 
hastened  to  add;  "but  with  it  you  are  sublime! 
You  must  wear  it  always  if  for  no  other  reason 
than  ..." 

She  broke  off  suddenly  on  hearing  footsteps 
outside  in  the  corridor.  St.  John  glanced  at  her 
questioningly;  she  nodded  affirmatively. 

"  Locked?  Good!  "  he  said;  and,  after  a  mo- 
ment, he  went  on,  a  suspicion  of  a  smile  lurking 


A  WELCOME  INTRUDER  17 

in  his  eyes:  "I  hear  that  you  are  now  Mrs. 
Bellairs,  of  Quebec.  Tell  me,  did  you  ever  reach 
Quebec?" 

"No.  I  didn't  get  that  far,"  she  answered, 
burying  her  face  in  her  hands  to  shut  out  from 
him  some  of  the  emotion  that  she  felt  even  in  the 
darkness  must  be  there.  "  It's  three  years,"  she 
commented  reflectively,  "  since  I've  seen  you. 
They  had  no  right  ..." 

"  Oh,  don't  bother  about  the  years !  Let's  for- 
get them — forget  the  unpleasant  things!  But 
where  are  the  lights?  I  haven't  had  a  good  look 
at  you,  Roxie;"  and  he  ran  his  hand  along  the 
side  of  the  wall. 

"  Don't  I  "  she  cried.  "  You  must  be  mad 
.  .  .  !  Why,  the  shades  are  up ! "  And,  going 
over  to  the  windows,  she  drew  down  the  shades; 
he  switched  on  the  lights  as  she  turned  to  come 
back. 

"There!    ..."  he  began. 

"  Three  years,"  she  broke  in  confusedly. 

"  Cut  them  out,  Roxie !  "  a  little  impatiently. 
"  However,  I  must  say  they've  been  deuced  kind 
to  you.  Why,  you're  more  wonderful  than  ever !  " 

And  indeed  she  was.     For  the  pallor  that  some 


1 8  THE  CATSPAW 

strange  experience  had  left  upon  her  face  had  only 
enhanced  her  attractiveness. 

"  Have  you  any  money  to  spare  now?  "  he  de- 
manded, somewhat  abruptly.  And,  despite  his 
beard,  his  face  had  a  distinctly  boyish  expression. 

Roxane  burst  out  laughing. 

44  Money  to  spare?  As  if  any  woman  ever  had 
money  to  spare !  "  She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 
"No;  but  I  have  luggage.  And  you?  " 

St.  John  ignored  her  question  and  merely 
laughed.  Presently  he  said: — 

"  Of  course,  you  received  my  letters?  " 

44  Yes." 

14  They  didn't  tell  you — because  they  couldn't — 
what  I've  done  in  the  last  three  years  here." 

"Oh,  then  you've " 

44  Done  just  what  you  wanted  me  to  do — fol- 
lowed your  instructions  to  the  letter.  I  walked  into 
the  town  one  day  and  hung  up  my  hat.  Since 
then  " — he  drew  himself  up — 4'  well,  you  must 
have  seen — you  saw  me  in  the  palm-room  to- 
day?" 

She  looked  up  at  him  quickly,  genuine  admira- 
tion shone  in  her  eyes. 

"  Kitt,    you    are    drole — you    are    irresistible ! 


A  WELCOME  INTRUDER          19 

Why,  you  have  only  to  walk  in  anywhere  and 
hang  up  your  hat !  Is  that  not  so  ?  " 

After  an  inappreciable  pause,  he  said: — 

"  Roxie,  I'm  wondering  how  you'll  get  along 
here.  There  is  no  doubt  about  the  men — I  saw 
that  to-day.  They'll  admire  you,  all  right.  The 
question  is  the  women — and  in  the  end,  you  know, 
it's  always  the  women  who  decide.  .  .  .  How- 
ever, if  you  get  the  Tony  Shackletons  with 
you,  and  I  believe  you  can,  the  rest  will  be 
easy." 

"  I  see,"  she  laughed.  "  You  began  with  the 
women;  well,  then,  I  shall  begin  with  the  men. 
For  one  thing,  it  will  be  more  fun.  But  tell  me," 
she  suddenly  demanded,  her  eyes  narrowing,  "  how 
about  this  richest  girl  in  town — this  Miss  Doro- 
thy Paget?" 

St.  John  flushed,  for  there  was  just  a  tinge  of 
jealousy,  he  thought,  in  Roxane's  attitude.  In- 
deed, a  sharper  note  had  crept  into  her  voice ;  and 
it  was  with  some  trepidation  that  he  hastened  to 
reassure  her. 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,  my  dear,  it's  only  a  flirta- 
tion— the  mildest  kind  ..." 

"  It's  less  of  a  flirtation,  Kitt,  than  you  imag- 


20  THE  CATSPAW 

ine,"  she  told  him  pointedly.  '  You  are  making 
love  to  Miss — Miss  Dorothy  Paget,  and  no  one 
knows  better  than  you  how  to  make  love  to  a 
young  girl.  But  does  she  make  love  to  you  ?  Oh, 
don't  look  at  me  that  wayl  I  know  what  I'm 
saying.  You  are  wasting  your  time,  believe  me. 
Besides,  there  are  other  women  with  whom  you 
might  make  more  headway." 

Again  he  flushed,  this  time  with  positive  annoy- 
ance at  her  cleverness,  for  he  felt  that  what  she 
had  said  was  true. 

"Naturally,"  he  explained,  "I  felt  it  wise  to 
try  to  make  an  impression  on  the  richest  girl  in 
town." 

"  Of  course,"  she  answered  mockingly. 

He  disdained  her  little  stab  and  was  silent. 

"  You  are  one  of  the  best-known  men  in  town  ?  " 
she  went  on. 

"Apparently.  But  that  doesn't  get  me  any 
money." 

She  placed  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  And  there  is  nothing,  absolutely  nothing 
against  you — here  in  town?" 

"  Nothing.  But  it's  high  time  I  did  something. 
I  need  the  money;  so  do  you.  When  you  say  the 


She  motioned  to  him  to  sit  down  beside  her 


A  WELCOME  INTRUDER          21 

word,  Roxie,  I  shall  be  ready  to  begin,  and  I 
know  I  shall  succeed." 

Roxane  thought  for  a  moment. 

"What  particular  line?"  she  asked. 

"  The  old  one,"  he  told  her. 

The  pallor  deepened  on  her  face. 

'Why  not  the  safer,  cleverer  methods?" 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  The  clever  methods  are  no  longer  up-to-date. 
Besides,  were  I  to  sell  a  share  of  stock,  or  any- 
thing of  that  kind,  I'd  be  suspected  in  an  instant." 

"  But  the  old  methods  are  risky?  "  she  faltered. 

;<  What's  got  into  you,  Roxie?  Playing  scared, 
are  you?  Buck  up!  However,  the  scheme  that 
I've  planned  has  never  been  done." 

"  Tell  me  about  it,"  she  asked  with  great  en- 
thusiasm; and,  drawing  two  chairs  up  before  the 
small  wood  fire  burning  cheerfully  in  the  grate, 
she  motioned  to  him  to  sit  down  beside  her. 
"Now,"  she  said,  thrusting  the  tips  of  her  shoes 
on  the  fender,  and,  with  half-turned  profile,  gaz- 
ing up  at  him. 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  that  I  crossed  the  lawn  of 
the  hotel-gardens  and  climbed  the  fire-escape  to 
you  without  being  seen?  No  one  in  this  town 


22  THE  CATSPAW 

knows  that  I  am  here;  fifty  people  believe  me  in 
the  club.  Roxie,  I  have  not  been  idle  these  three 
years." 

"  Why  do  you  insist  upon  keeping  me  in  the 
dark?  Open  up — what's  the  game ?" 

"  A  simple  enough  one,"  was  his  enigmatic 
answer. 

Roxane  looked  at  him  curiously;  his  eyes  were 
dancing;  there  was  a  flush  on  his  cheek.  In- 
stinctively she  knew  that  they  stood  on  the 
threshold  of  a  great  enterprise. 

"  Roxie,  don't  ask  too  many  questions.  Some 
day  you  will  understand,  but  that  day  is  not  yet. 
However,  I'm  ready  to  act  when  you  say  the 
word." 

Roxane  wrinkled  her  brow.  She  knew  St.  John 
too  well  to  press  him  further  on  an  interdicted 
subject. 

"  I  don't  half-like  this  secrecy,"  she  returned, 
and  made  a  little  grimace. 

"But  I,  I  .  .  ."  And  he  drew  himself  up, 
squared  his  shoulders,  and  a  shrug  completed  his 
sentence. 

For  a  moment  there  was  a  silence;  it  was  the 
woman  who  broke  it. 


A  WELCOME  INTRUDER          23 

"  I  looked  around  a  bit  before  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  come  to  this  town.  To  be  precise,  it  was 
not  only  the  hope  of  meeting  you  that  brought  me 
here;  it  was  the  chance  that  seemed  to  offer  itself 
to  do  these  people."  She  chuckled. 

St.  John's  eyes  sought  hers  again. 

"That  reminds  me,"  he  said;  "where  can  we 
meet?" 

"  Surely  not  here — not  anywhere  in  town.  You 
should  not  have  come  to  me  to-night.  It's  not 
safe  for  you — not  safe  for  any  scheme  of  ours  that 
we  should  be  seen  together." 

"  But  how  shall  we  meet?  "  he  persisted. 

"  In  Manhattan,  of  course." 

"The  old  place?" 

"  Why  not?  Neither  of  us  has  been  there  for 
these  three  years." 

"The  old  signal,  too,  I  suppose?" 

Memory  lighted  up  her  face. 

"  Yes.  In  the  meantime  I'm  going  to  have  my 
fling!" 

And,  being  a  woman,  in  the  end  she  had  her 
way,  and,  having  her  way,  it  was  not  fifteen  hours 
before  she  started  to  put  it  into  execution. 


CHAPTER  III 

JULES  GASPARD  FIGURES  MORE  OR  LESS 

THE  president  of  the  Manufacturers'  National  sat 
twirling  his  thumbs  in  front  of  his  expansive  waist- 
coat, thinking,  singularly  enough,  of  the  woman 
who  sat  in  a  corner  of  the  palm-room  of  the  In- 
dian Queen  Hotel  the  afternoon  before.  A  clerk 
entered  and  placed  upon  the  desk  a  card. 

"  A  lady  to  see  you,  sir,"  he  said;  and  Mr.  Bon- 
wit,  never  more  happy  than  when  in  the  society 
of  the  fair  sex,  twirled  his  thumbs  with  greater 
satisfaction,  and  nodded  patronisingly,  saying 
quickly : — 

"  Show  her  in,  Peters,  show  her  in."  But  when 
his  glance  rested  on  the  card,  his  face  paled  and 
reddened  in  turn.  "  Wait,  Peters !  "  he  called 
out,  "  wait  a  moment  before  showing  her  in !  " 
And,  springing  from  his  chair  with  an  agility  quite 
remarkable  for  one  of  his  years,  Mr.  Bonwit  re- 
paired to  a  little  alcove  in  the  corner  of  his  office, 
where,  standing  before  a  mirror,  he  examined  the 

state  of  his  countenance ;  and  not  until  he  had  seen 

24 


JULES  GASPARD  FIGURES          25 

that  his  collar  pressed  becomingly  against  his  fat 
neck,  and  had  carefully  brushed  up  such  hirsute 
adornment  as  remained  upon  the  top  of  his 
head,  did  Mr.  Bonwit  return  to  his  chair  at  his 
desk. 

"  Now,  Peters,"  he  announced,  "  you  can  show 
the  lady  in." 

"  I  am  Mrs.  Bellairs,"  said  his  visitor,  enter- 
ing with  an  unsuccessful  assumption  of  business- 
like purpose. 

Mr.  Bonwit  quickly  placed  a  chair.  Then  his 
hand  strayed  to  his  forehead  to  make  sure  that 
the  work  done  by  the  military  brushes  had  not 
yet  been  undone,  strayed  to  his  necktie  to  see  that 
his  diamond  pin  occupied  its  usual  effective  posi- 
tion, and  finally  strayed  to  his  coat-pocket  to  see 
that  the  right  quantity  of  handkerchief-border  was 
in  evidence. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance, 
Mrs.  Bellairs,"  he  now  said  with  a  great  deal  of 
warmth.  "  What  can  I  do  for  you?  You  desire 
to  open  an  account?" 

Roxane  bowed  and  fumbled  with  the  dainty 
silver-mounted  bag  which  she  invariably  carried 
with  her. 


26  THE  CATSPAW 

Mrs.  Bellairs  was  good  to  look  upon,  particu- 
larly good,  thought  Mr.  Bonwit,  his  eyes  never 
once  leaving  her  face.  Presently  the  woman 
turned  her  full  gaze  upon  him,  an  action  that  em- 
barrassed and  yet  delighted  him,  for  there  was 
something  in  her  manner  of  focusing  her  glance — 
and  especially  now — that  gave  her  the  appearance 
of  being  wholly  engrossed. 

"  I  propose  to  open  an  account  with  you,  Mr. 
Bonwit,"  she  quietly  informed  him,  "but  possibly 
not  for  ten  days.  I  have  come  to  you  for  quite 
another  purpose,"  she  added,  as  though  her  only 
reason  for  coming  to  Mr.  Bonwit  was  Mr.  Bonwit 
himself, — a  thought  that  sent  the  colour  creeping 
pleasantly  far  above  that  gentleman's  collar. 

"  I  am  not  a  business  woman,"  Mrs.  Bellairs 
continued;  "and  yet,  there  is  one  piece  of  busi- 
ness that  I  have  learned  from  my  husband." 

Mr.  Bonwit's  brow  clouded  as  he  interrupted 
her  quickly  with : — 

"  And  may  I  ask  what  is  the  piece  of  business, 
Mrs.  Bellairs,  that  you  have  learned  from — from 
your  husband?  " 

"He  was  a  man  of  large  business  interests," 
sighed  the  visitor. 


JULES  GASPARD  FIGURES          27 

"  Oh,  then  your  husband  is  dead?  "  he  said  with 
seemingly  ill-concealed  pleasure. 

Roxane  nodded  affirmatively;  Mr.  Bonwit's 
change  of  tone  by  no  means  escaped  her. 

She  went  on: — 

'  Yes,  he  was  a  man  of  large  business  inter- 
ests, and  he  always  told  me  that  if  I  found 
myself  in  a  strange  place  and  needed  to  em- 
ploy a  lawyer,  that  there  was  only  one  way 
to  get  a  man  upon  whom  one  could  rely 
absolutely." 

Mr.  Bonwit  opened  wide  his  eyes;  he  was 
plainly  interested. 

"And  that  was?" 

".  .  .  to  get  the  lawyer  for  a  national  bank 
in  the  town  I  happened  to  be  in,"  she  informed 
him,  smiling.  "  Such  a  man,  he  assured  me,  was 
bound  to  be  reliable." 

"  A  capital  idea,"  observed  Mr.  Bonwit,  re- 
turning her  smile.  A  moment  later  he  added: 
"  So  you  need  a  lawyer,  do  you?  " 

"  Yes.  Therefore,  I  have  come  to  you,"  she 
said  in  her  most  engaging  manner. 

"Humph!"  came  from  Mr.  Bonwit.  "But 
are  you  quite  sure  about  it?  Lawyers  cost  money, 


28  THE  CATSPAW 

you  know."  Then  he  added  significantly:  "  Can- 
not I  offer  my  advice,  Mrs.  Bellairs?  " 

"  Next  to  lawyers,  Mr.  Bonwit,  I  admit  I  have 
a  great  respect  for  bank  men,"  she  returned  tact- 
fully. "  But  I  must  consult  a  lawyer." 

"  Oh,  in  that  case,  I  can  introduce  you  to  the 
best  man  we  have  in  town."  He  pushed  a  but- 
ton; Peters  entered.  "Peters,"  he  directed,  "go 
to  Major  Holbrook's  office  and  ask  him  to  come 
over  here  right  away." 

In  a  remarkably  short  space  of  time,  Major 
Holbrook — a  grizzled  gentleman  with  an  iron- 
grey  moustache,  dressed  in  a  grey  suit  ornamented 
with  a  red  necktie — entered  the  room.  Upon  him 
sat  the  air  of  a  man-about-town.  He  started 
slightly  when  he  perceived  the  woman. 

"  This  is  Major  Holbrook,"  said  Mr.  Bonwit. 
"  He  is  our  lawyer,  and  the  best  in  town.  Major, 
Mrs.  Bellairs  desires  to  consult  you  upon  busi- 
ness." 

The  Major  glanced  calmly  from  the  flushed 
face  of  Mr.  Bonwit  to  the  immobile  countenance 
of  his  new  client. 

"  Does  she  wish  to  consult  me  here?  "  the  Major 
inquired. 


JULES  GASPARD  FIGURES         29 

"Yes  .    .    ." 

"  No,"  interposed  the  woman  quickly. 

So  it  was  settled  that  Roxane  should  accom- 
pany Major  Holbrook  to  his  office,  a  short  dis- 
tance down  the  street,  where  she  proceeded  at 
once  to  inform  him  that  her  husband,  in  his  life- 
time, had  always  believed  that  the  best  invest- 
ments lay  in  properties  in  towns  or  cities  within  a 
radius  of  twenty-five  miles  from  New  York. 

The  Major  sniffed  with  some  slight  business 
excitement,  for  he  saw  a  chance  for  a  big  fee,  or 
a  series  of  big  fees. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  infer  that  that  is  your  object 
in  coming  to  our  city?  " 

"  My  husband,"  the  lady  went  on,  with  a  grow- 
ing simulated  interest,  "  saw  your  city  and  liked 
it.  He  told  me  it  was  the  coming  city  of  your 
state,  and  I — I,  somehow,  know  it,  feel  it,  even 
though  I  have  been  here  only  a  short  twelve  hours. 
Who  was  it  that  said  *  cities  have  a  character  of 
their  own  just  like  human  beings '  ?  That  is  it, 
no  matter  who  said  it.  And  what  a  difference  I 
have  found  in  the  atmosphere  of  this  place  com- 
pared with  that  of  other  places  I  have  known, 
especially  for  the  last  three  years !  It  was,  indeed, 


3o  THE  CATSPAW 

the  character  of  your  city  that  attracted  me — and 
my  initial  impressions  rarely  play  me  false." 

The  Major  was  glad  to  note  that  however 
business-like  Mrs.  Bellairs'  husband  may  have 
been,  that  she  herself  was  far  from  being  busi- 
ness-like; that  even  as  the  city  had  made  its  im- 
pression upon  her,  he,  too,  was  making  a  favour- 
able impression,  his  every  look,  word,  and  gesture 
being  followed  by  her  glance. 

"  But  what  is  it,  dear  madam,  that  you  desire 
of  me?" 

Roxane  leaned  across  the  desk,  and  said  in  a 
way  that  left  no  doubt  in  his  mind  that  she  placed 
her  entire  confidence  in  him: — 

"  Simply  see  that  my  husband's  money  is  prop- 
erly invested  here  in  your  town — see  that  nobody 
cheats  me  out  of  it." 

Major  Holbrook  nodded  with  professional  in- 
terest. 

"  Mrs.  Bellairs,"  he  said,  referring  to  her  card, 
"  may  I  ask  where  your  husband's  money  is  in- 
vested?" 

"  Ah,  it  is  that  old  Gaspard,  of  Quebec,  who 
has  charge  of  everything!"  returned  the  young 
widow  with  an  impatient  shrug  of  the  shoulder. 


JULES  GASPARD  FIGURES         31 

"  And  who  is  Gaspard,  may  I  ask?  " 

Again  Roxane  shrugged  her  shoulder. 

"  He's  a  solicitor,  a  counsellor,  one  like  you.'* 
She  smiled  and  held  up  her  hand  with  an  ex- 
pressive gesture.  "  No,  not  like  you,"  she  cor- 
rected ;  "  not  tall,  not  robust,  not  distingue;  oh, 
no,  not  that !  But  of  the  profession — yes !  " 

With  difficulty,  the  Major  concealed  his  amuse- 
ment; nevertheless,  he  asked: — 

"  Then,  it  is  this  lawyer  Gaspard  who  has 
charge  of  your  affairs?" 

The  young  woman  smiled;  but  an  expression  of 
annoyance  crossed  her  face  as  she  replied: — 

"  He  has  altogether  too  much  to  say,  my  friend, 
and  does  as  he  sees  fit." 

"Is  he  trustee?" 

"  He's  everything,"  she  told  him,  with  another 
shrug. 

"  And  he's  perfectly  safe?  "  queried  the  lawyer. 

Roxane  made  a  little  moue. 

"  So  safe,  my  friend,  that  he  will  not  let  me 
spend  my  own  money.  He  is  what  you  call 
1  tight.'  But  honest — oh,  as  honest  as  the  day  is 
long!  But,  then,  he's  under  security,  adminis- 
trators' bonds,  or  whatever  you  call  them.  Oh, 


32  THE  CATSPAW 

yes,  he's  safe  enough!  But  we  shall  get  it  all — 
all  of  my  estate  out  of  his  hands,  out  of  Quebec." 

"  Then,  you  wish  me  to  .    .    . " 

Roxane  quickly  cut  in  with: — 

"To  write  a  letter.  One  of  those  hard,  stern 
letters  that  go  with  those  brave  moustaches  of 
yours,  and  tell  this  old  Jules  Gaspard  that  he  must 
pay  my  income.  I  must  have  ready  money." 

"  Your  will  shall  be  done,"  declared  the  Major, 
smiling.  "  And  now,  his  address,  please." 

"  But  I  must  see  this  letter!  "  she  cried  out  ex- 
citedly, at  the  same  time  laying  an  imploring  hand 
upon  his  arm.  "  I  must  know  that  you  have  raked 
him  well  over  the  coals." 

The  Major  touched  a  button,  and,  calling  in 
his  stenographer,  rapidly  dictated  a  somewhat 
stereotyped  letter.  In  a  few  minutes  the  stenog- 
rapher handed  him  a  typewritten  copy  of  it,  which, 
in  turn,  Major  Holbrook  handed  to  his  client  to 
read. 

"  Oh,  that  is  too  easy !  There's  too  much  pro- 
fessional courtesy  about  it!"  she  exclaimed  with 
a  shake  of  the  head.  "  No,  Major  Holbrook,  that 
will  not  do.  Won't  you  please  dictate  another?" 

Thereupon    the    Major    burst    forth    into    an 


JULES  GASPARD  FIGURES         33 

epistle  that  seemed  to  burn  the  very  paper. 
Couched  in  polite  phrase,  it  did  what  his  client  re- 
quested: it  raked  Jules  Gaspard  fore  and  aft. 

"Ah,  that  is  more  to  the  point!"  announced, 
the  widow,  with  a  bewildering  smile.    "  We  shall 
take  this  matter  up,  step  by  step,  until  we  have 
succeeded.    Be  good  enough  to  let  me  know  when  r 
you  have  heard  from  M'sieu  Gaspard,"  she  con- 
cluded at  the  elevator,  where  Major  Holbrook 
left  her. 

Once  more  in  her  luxurious  apartments  in  the 
Indian  Queen  Hotel,  Roxane  sought  out  from  her 
massive  baggage  a  little  leather  steamer-trunk,  un- 
locked it,  threw  back  the  cover,  and  removed  from 
a  remote  corner  a  leather  kit  that  had  been  care- 
fully tucked  away.  Of  all  the  possessions  that 
Roxane  could  boast  of,  this  little  leather  kit  was 
the  one  she  prized  most  highly,  but  it  also  was 
the  one  she  boasted  of  the  least.  And  now,  after 
carefully  locking  the  doors,  she  proceeded  to  draw 
down  the  shades,  and,  in  the  dim  light,  opened 
this  holy  of  holies,  glancing  upon  its  contents  with 
undisguised  admiration.  From  it  she  extracted 
first  a  rubber  stamp,  then  a  miniature  typewriter, 
a  bewildering  assortment  of  pens,  a  bottle  of  red 


34  THE  CATSPAW 

and  blue-black  ink,  an  envelope,  a  heavy,  hand- 
somely engraved  sheet  of  business  letter-head,  and 
finally  a  long,  narrow  bank  cheque — the  cheque  of 
a  Quebec  bank.  The  letter-head  bore  the  name 
of  Jules  Gaspard,  Solicitor  and  Attorney-at-Law, 
Notary  Public,  Quebec;  and  to  one  side,  in 
squarely  blocked  letters,  appeared  the  words: 
"  The  Bellairs  Estates." 

Rapidly  she  placed  the  sheet  of  paper  in  the 
typewriter,  and  as  rapidly  wrote  a  brief  but 
pointed  note,  which  she  signed  in  a  small  but  mas- 
culine hand;  then  she  filled  out  the  cheque,  and, 
with  the  rubber  stamp,  quickly  stamped  it  across 
the  face,  countersigning  it  with  red  ink.  And  now, 
folding  the  cheque  and  letter  with  scrupulous  care, 
she  thrust  them  into  the  envelope  and  sealed  it; 
and,  finally  placing  the  latter  within  a  larger  en- 
velope, she  addressed  this  to  Jules  Gaspard,  Que- 
bec, P.  Q., — Jules  Gaspard,  whose  office  consisted 
of  one  room,  one  desk,  and  one  chair,  whose  an- 
cient, worn,  and  weather-beaten  shingle  creaked 
upon  its  hangings  and  flapped  to  and  fro  in  the 
wind. 

Roxane  Bellairs  had  said  that  Jules  Gaspard 
was  honest;  but  she  did  not  say  that  he  was  hon- 


JULES  GASPARD  FIGURES         35 

est  for  the  reason  that  no  client  ever  crossed  his 
portal,  no  funds  were  ever  placed  in  his  hands,  that 
his  fondness  for  cognac  and  Canadian  brandies 
had  reduced  him  to  a  stage  where  he  knew  but  one 
lesson,  though  he  knew  that  lesson  well.  Like- 
wise, she  did  not  mention  that  his  only  task — 
which  earned  him  the  few  dollars  per  week  that 
made  his  life  worth  living — was  to  receive  the  let- 
ters which  she  sent  to  him,  and,  after  removing 
their  outer  envelope,  to  attach  a  stamp  to  the  inner 
one  and  promptly  put  them  in  the  general  post- 
office  in  the  City  of  Quebec.  Such  was  Jules  Gas- 
pard,  whose  fame  for  tightness  in  various  particu- 
lars was  quite  unequalled,  and  in  whose  hands  the 
funds  of  the  Bellairs  Estates,  such  as  they  were, 
were  undoubtedly  safe. 

It  was  about  three  days  later  that  Major  Hoi- 
brook  telephoned  to  Mrs.  Bellairs  at  the  Indian 
Queen  Hotel  that  he  had  received  a  letter  that 
would  interest  her. 

"  Ah,  my  friend,  I  see  it  in  your  eyes,"  she  said 
on  entering  the  Major's  spacious  offices;  and, 
pressing  warmly  the  hand  which  the  Major  held 
out  to  her  in  greeting,  she  added :  "  You  have  news 
from  this  Gaspard,  have  you  not?  " 


36  THE  CATSPAW 

The  Major  chuckled.  He  was  not  only  glad 
to  please  her,  but  he  was  glad  to  have  his  first 
effort,  in  her  behalf,  a  very  considerable  success. 
And,  tossing  before  the  dancing  eyes  of  his  lovely 
client  an  envelope  postmarked  Quebec — a  letter 
upon  a  heavy  sheet  of  business  paper,  and  a  long, 
narrow  cheque, — he  answered: — 

"  I  think  we  fetched  him." 

Roxane  glanced  at  the  envelope  and  read  the 
letter  through  with  studied  carelessness.  It  said : — 

HON.  J.  T.  HOLBROOK, 

Counsellor  at  Law. 

Honoured  Sir: — Mme.  Bellairs  must  understand  once  and 
for  all  that  I,  the  close  friend  and  business  associate  of  her 
late  husband,  shall  administer  the  affairs  of  his  estate  in 
the  manner  that  shall  best  conserve  her  interests.  It  is  for 
her  benefit,  not  for  her  pleasure  that  I  act.  I  know,  and  she 
does  not.  She  is  extravagant — a  spendthrift.  You  will  find 
enclosed,  Honoured  Sir,  a  cheque  for  a  small  portion  of  her 
income  for  the  present  year.  Mme.  Bellairs  will  understand 
that  this  portion  is  all  that  can  be  vouchsafed  to  her  at  the 
present  time.  The  bulk  of  her  income  she  will  not  get  for 
some  months.  Kindly  give  me  advice  as  to  its  receipt.  I 
remain,  sir, 

Your  obedient  servant, 

JULES  GASPARD. 

1  Thirty  thousand  dollars !  "  she  exclaimed,  her 
eyes  flashing.     "The  idea!     It  is  not  enough! 


JULES  GASPARD  FIGURES         37 

Major  Holbrook,"  she  went  on,  tapping  her  dainty 
foot  excitedly,  "  this  won't  do.  No,  it's  not 
enough — Jules  Gaspard  must  be  made  to 
pay  .  ,  „." 

Major  Holbrook  blinked  his  eyes;  perfunctorily 
he  nodded  in  response  to  her  vehemence;  but  in 
the  back  of  his  head  there  kept  running  through 
his  brain  a  phrase  that  he  had  plucked  bodily  out 
of  the  letter:  "the  bulk  of  her  income  she  will 
not  get  for  some  months."  He  eyed  his  client — • 
a  small  fraction  of  whose  yearly  income  was  rep- 
resented by  a  certified  check  for  thirty  thousand 
dollars — with  undisguised  astonishment.  What 
was  the  sum-total  of  the  yearly  income  of  the 
Bellairs  Estates  ?  What  did  the  principal  amount 
to?  Major  Holbrook  could  only  wonder  and  sur- 
mise; some  day  he  would  know. 

"Ah,  well,"  said  the  widow,  rising,  and  once 
more  pressing  the  Major's  hand,  "  we  will  leave 
old  Gaspard  alone  for  the  present.  We  must  con- 
sider his  age  and  the  state  of  his  nerves;  is  it 
not  so?  I  thank  you,  Major  Holbrook,  and,  if 
you  will  send  me  your  bill  at  once,  I'll  ..." 
Which  injunction,  by  the  way,  the  Major  did  not 
obey. 


38  THE  CATSPAW 

Now,  any  other  person  in  the  town  of  M 

having  in  his  or  her  possession  a  certified  cheque 
for  thirty  thousand  dollars,  would  have  taken  the 
cheque  to  a  bank  and  deposited  it  to  his  or  her 
credit;  but  not  so  Roxane.  Instead,  she  quietly 
returned  to  her  apartments  in  the  Indian  Queen 
Hotel,  and  once  more  locked  herself  within. 

"  Some  day,"  she  said  to  herself,  drawing  from 
her  dressing-table  a  dainty  little  packet  of  gold- 
tipped  cigarettes  ornamented  with  the  Bellairs 
crest,  "  I  must  teach  the  ladies  of  this  town  how 
to  enjoy  a  cigarette.  For  the  present  ..."  She 
broke  off  suddenly  and  rolled  the  certified  cheque 
for  thirty  thousand  dollars  into  a  quill,  lit  it  with 
a  match,  and  watched  it  burn  down  almost  to  the 
end  before  igniting  her  tiny  cigarette. 

As  she  languidly  blew  up  rings  of  smoke  into 
the  air,  she  smiled  to  herself  at  the  thought  of 
what  she  had  accomplished  that  morning  with  a 
little  rubber  stamp. 


CHAPTER  IV 

MR.    BONWIT   UNDER  BONDS 

IT  was  one  of  Mrs.  Shackleton's  big  nights.  The 
rooms  were  crowded;  the  dance  was  on;  the  joy 
was  unconfined;  and  Mrs.  Tony,  triumphant  and 
resplendent  in  her  superb  ivory-white  satin  gown, 
as  she  stood  close  to  the  entrance  smilingly  greet- 
ing her  guests,  could  not  refrain  from  telling  her- 
self that,  before  very  long,  her  entertainments 
would  be  as  famous  as  those  of  the  great  houses 
in  the  nearby  metropolis. 

In  the  unusually  spacious  conservatory — which 
for  this  particular  night  had  been  transformed  into 
a  veritable  South  American  jungle — occasional 
glimpses  could  be  had  of  beautiful  women  flitting 
back  and  forth  under  the  soft  lights;  the  agree- 
able confusion  of  many  voices  filtered  in  from  the 
dancing-room;  the  melody  of  stringed  instruments 
drifted  in  from  the  veranda;  but  Mr.  Bonwit 
had  no  ears  for  the  voluptuous  music,  nor  eyes  for 
any  one  save  the  beautiful  widow  Bellairs. 

For  the  last  few  months  Roxane  had  had  every- 

39 


40  THE  CATSPAW 

thing  that  she  had  wished  for.  But  how  she  had 
lived,  or  upon  what,  the  good  people  of  the  town 
never  knew  or  never  asked.  Her  intimate  friends, 
however, — and  she  had  made  not  a  few, — learned, 
bit  by  bit,  that  the  settlement  of  her  extensive 
estate,  still  long  delayed,  was  not  far  off.  That 
she  had  arrived  socially,  her  presence  this  evening 
at  the  Tony  Shackletons'  was  sufficient  evidence. 
Indeed,  it  would  hardly  be  an  exaggeration  to  say 
that  she  had  the  town  practically  at  her  feet — 
she  had  become  the  fashion. 

".  L..  .  the  happiest  man  in  the  world,  .  .  . 
the  loveliest  woman  in  the  universe,"  murmured 
Mr.  Bonwit,  as  with  his  none  too  strong  right  arm 
he  pressed  the  dainty  head  of  the  widow  to  his 
breast,  his  left  hand  clasping  her  bare  white 
shoulder. 

Roxane  lifted  up  her  face  to  his  and  looked  him 
in  the  eyes — a  glance  of  suppliant  appeal  that 
lifted  him  into  the  seventh  heaven  of  delight. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  something,  dear,"  she  said, 
clinging  to  him  feverishly,  insistently,  ecstatically, 
"  something  that  you  must  believe.  It  is  true," 
she  went  on  in  low  musical  tones  that  sent  the  life 
surging  through  his  veins,  "that,  although  I've 


MR.  BONWIT  UNDER  BONDS      41 

been  married  once  before,  this  is  my  first  love 
affair." 

"I  believe  you,"  he  answered  seriously;  "I 
somehow  knew  it  without  your  telling  me."  His 
voice  trailed  off  into  a  subdued  tremolo:  "To 
think  that  you  are  mine,  mine  .  .  ,.  !  " 

Presently  Roxane  drew  him  to  a  seat  beneath 
the  palms,  whose  delicate  spears  thrust  themselves 
everywhere  in  great  profusion;  and,  taking  both 
his  hands  in  hers,  she  continued: — 

1  Yes,  I  want  to  be  yours,  all  yours,  as  neces- 
sary to  you  as  your  daily  bread.  I  want  to  sink 
myself  in  you,  dear,  and  be  loved  by  your  people 
and  your  friends  ..."  She  broke  off  abruptly, 
releasing  herself  suddenly  from  his  embrace. 

"  What's  the  matter,  dear?  "  queried  Mr.  Bon- 
wit,  somewhat  alarmed  at  the  change  in  her  coun- 
tenance. 

Roxane  did  not  answer.  Her  perturbation  was 
brought  about  not  because  of  her  discovery  of  the 
identity  of  a  man  and  a  woman  who — unseen  by 
Bonwit  and  well-nigh  hidden  from  every  other 
eye  save  hers — sat  at  the  other  end  of  a  clearing — 
a  space  running  through  the  centre  of  the  vegeta- 
tion that,  by  some  strange  circumstance,  was  di- 


42  THE  CATSPAW 

rectly  in  front  of  her;  she  had  seen  them  together 
on  the  first  day  of  her  arrival;  what  rendered  her 
almost  speechless  with  surprise  and  excitement  was 
the  expression  that  she  had  detected  on  the  face 
of  the  girl  looking  into  that  of  her  companion. 

Again  Mr.  Bonwit  inquired,  anxiously,  the 
cause  of  her  unusual  excitement. 

"  Oh,  it's  nothing — nothing  at  all,  dear,"  she 
said,  seizing  his  hand  in  hers  and  pressing  it 
firmly.  "  Can't  you  understand  that  I'm  in  love — 
in  love  for  the  first  time?  " 

And  love,  even  if  it  were  soon  to  take  the  form 
of  jealousy,  there  certainly  was  in  the  eyes  of 
Roxane  as  she  gazed  not  at  Mr.  Bonwit,  but  at 
the  man  engaged  in  an  intimate  conversation  with 
the  woman  at  the  end  of  the  little  green  passage- 
way of  palms. 

But  it  was  the  girl,  as  has  been  said,  and  not 
the  man,  that  had  caused  Roxane  so  much  con- 
cern. There  was  something  written  on  the  face 
that  she  was  watching  that  she  had  never  seen 
there  before :  a  glory  in  the  eyes  that  never  comes 
but  once — love.  And  there  was  another  surprise 
in  store  for  her:  for,  at  the  moment  when  she  was 
reflecting  to  herself  that  it  was  too  bad  that  the 


MR.  BONWIT  UNDER  BONDS      43 

girl's  feelings  should  be  trifled  with  in  this  man- 
ner, her  glance  strayed  back  to  the  man — now 
bending  over  the  girl, — and  Roxane  perceived,  to 
her  amazement,  that  his  face,  too,  was  lit  up  with 
like  glory.  No  wonder  her  brain  reeled:  never 
had  he  looked  at  her  like  that. 

And  now  alert,  and  with  all  the  jealous  instinct 
of  her  sex,  Roxane  drew  breath  sharply  inward 
and  started  to  her  feet;  but,  the  next  instant,  she 
sank  down  into  her  seat,  covering  her  face  with 
her  hands,  and  began  to  laugh  hysterically,  her 
whole  attitude  presenting  what  seemed  to  the  won- 
dering Mr.  Bonwit  a  picture  of  despair.  Quickly 
recovering,  however,  and  the  better  to  explain  her 
conduct,  and,  perhaps,  because  she  needed  to  find 
some  outlet  for  her  feelings,  she  drew  Mr.  Bon- 
wit's  head  down  until  the  two  at  the  other  end  of 
the  little  passageway  came  within  the  range  of  his 
vision,  and  then  she  whispered  lightly  in  his  ear: — 

"  We  are  not  the  only  culprits,  dear  friend. 
Cupid  is  busy,  is  he  not?  He  has  flown  from  us 
to  them." 

"They  didn't  see  us,"  began  Mr.  Bonwit 
sheepishly.  Then  he  recognised  the  pair,  and  his 
honest  countenance  broke  into  a  smile.  "  Well, 


44  THE  CATSPAW 

if  it  isn't  Dorothy  Paget  and  Kitt  St.  John!  "  he 
exclaimed.  "  Looks  as  if  they  were  in  earnest, 
too."  And  so  deep  was  his  tone  of  conviction  that 
Roxane  found  herself  starting  once  again. 

"Do  you  really  think  so?"  she  demanded, 
clutching  him  by  the  arm.  "  Why,  it  can't  be  pos- 
sible .,  ...  ...  .!  It  should  be  stopped — stopped  at 


once." 


"Why?"  queried  Bonwit,  puzzled. 

"  It  should  be  stopped,"  repeated  the  widow 
firmly.  "  Why,  he's  not  good  enough  for  her — = 
some  good  friend — you,  for  instance — should  in- 
terfere. Really,  if  you  don't,  I  .  .  ."  She 
broke  off  suddenly;  then,  in  a  trice,  her  mood 
changed.  "  Have  you  any  idea,"  she  whispered 
guiltily,  "  how  long  we've  been  sitting  here?  Why, 
it  must  be  hours  .  .  ." 

"  Hours  that  passed  like  minutes,  dear,"  he  ven- 
tured, smiling. 

"  Faster  than  that,"  she  answered,  sighing. 
"Oh,  life  has  been  so — so  dreary  until  .  ...  ." 
She  paused,  her  eyes  glittering  as  once  more  she 
glanced  at  St.  John. 

Roxane  had  been  quite  right  in  her  diagnosis 
of  the  feelings  of  at  least  one  of  the  two  persons 


MR.  BONWIT  UNDER  BONDS      45 

upon  whom  her  attention  had  been  focused,  for 
Dorothy  Paget  had  suddenly  come  to  realise  upon 
this  night  how  much  she  cared  for  Kittredge  St. 
John. 

That  she  had  deliberately  avoided  him,  con- 
tinuously snubbed  him,  and  frankly  disliked  him 
for  many  months,  now  made  no  difference  in  this 
sudden  upheaval  of  her  nature. 

There  was  one  thing  above  all  others  that  he 
had  said  to  her  that  night — for  he  did  not  then 
declare  his  love — that  clung  to  her  memory  ever 
afterwards. 

"  No  matter  what  happens,  Miss  Paget,  I  want 
you  to  believe  in  me,"  he  had  told  her  earnestly. 
"Will  you  promise  me  that?" 

And  her  eyes,  though  abashed  by  the  love  she 
had  seen  in  his,  nevertheless  had  clung  to  his  face. 

"  But  I  do  believe  in  you,"  she  had  answered 
softly — and  that  was  all. 

Meantime,  Mr.  Bonwit  had  succeeded  in  re- 
capturing the  widow's  attention,  and  was  saying 
something  that  sounded  like  music  to  her  ears. 

"  My  dear  Roxane,  you  must  forgive  the  stupid 
love-making  of  an  old  fossil  like  myself.  There 
is  one  thing,  however,  that  I  wish  to  do  to  con- 


46  THE  CATSPAW 

vince  you  of  my  affection.  You  won't  be  sur- 
prised or  offended  to  receive,  to-morrow  morning, 
a  package  from  Solomon  &  Brown's?" 

She  smiled  shyly  and  looked  at  the  third  finger 
of  her  left  hand. 

"  Solomon  &  Brown's  1  Why,  they're  not 
jewellers." 

"  Oh,  the  ring!  I'll  get  that  fast  enough,"  he 
told  her,  smiling.  "  I  mean,"  he  went  on,  "that 
I've  transferred  to  you  a  little  batch  of  Tri-State 
bonds — twenty  thousand  dollars'  worth  or  more — 
a  sort  of  pre-nuptial  gift,  you  know." 

"  But,  my  dear  man,  you  should  not  have  done 
that !  "  she  exclaimed,  apparently  annoyed. 

"Why  not?"  he  insisted.  "I  wanted  you  to 
know,  to  feel,  even  before  we  were  married,  that 
what's  mine  is  yours.  I  want  you  to  realise  that 
now,"  he  went  on  eagerly,  as  though  he  could 
not  bear  the  thought  of  a  refusal.  "  It  won't 
be  long  now,  anyway,  before  our  wedding, 
Roxane." 

"  But  what  shall  I  do  with  these — these  bonds, 
did  you  say?"  was  the  woman's  ingenuous  ques- 
tion. "  I  don't  need  money — indeed,  I  do  not, 
dear,"  she  added,  closing  her  eyes  in  order  to 


MR.  BONWIT  UNDER  BONDS      47 

thank  whatever  gods  she  worshipped  for  this  wel- 
come dispensation. 

"  Of  course,  you  don't — I  know  that.  But 
you'll  take  them,  dear,  take  them  to  please  me? 
Put  them  away  in  your  safe-deposit  vault,  any- 
thing. Surely,  you  understand  how  I  feel  about 
it." 

She  held  out  her  hand  and  pressed  his. 

"  I  do  understand,  and  I  shall  receive  it  in  the 
spirit  you  give  it,  never  fear." 

On  the  top  floor  in  the  smoking-room,  Jerome 
Olyphant  and  his  bosom  cronies — Major  Hoi- 
brook  and  little  Archie  Varnum — struggled  into- 
their  overcoats,  disposed  of  their  last  cocktail,  and 
lit  fresh  cigars. 

"Now,  where  in  thunder  is  that  man  Bonwit?  " 
commented  Olyphant  genially.  "  We  were  all  go- 
ing to  sit  in  a  friendly  little  game  that  I  fixed  up 
down  at  the  Iroquois,  and  we  were  going  to  quit 
here  about  midnight,  and  start  there  at  one.  Here 
it  is  half-past  two,  and  no  Bonwit !  Now,  where 
the  deuce  is  he?  " 

Archie  Varnum  drew  down  the  corners  of  his 
mouth. 


48  THE  CATSPAW 

"  Don't  you  know?  "  he  queried.  "  Well,  come 
on,  overcoats  and  all,  and  we'll  find  out !  " 

Halfway  down  the  stairs  Olyphant  caught  him 
by  the  arm. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  he's   .    .,  L." 

"What,  Bonwit!  Ridiculous!"  spluttered 
Major  Holbrook.  "  She'd  have  nothing  to  do 
with  him — a  man  of  his  years !  "  Which  opinion 
was  heartily  endorsed  by  Olyphant. 

Notwithstanding,  regardless  of  the  conventions 
or  of  waltz  or  two-step,  they  pushed  their  way 
through  room  after  room;  no  one  had  seen  Bon- 
wit.  A  fair  debutante  suggested  that  they  try  the 
orchids,  which,  however,  they  did  not  do.  For 
no  sooner  had  the  words  left  her  lips  than  Dorothy 
Paget,  unusually  calm,  save  for  a  glitter  in  her 
eye,  emerged  from  one  entrance  of  the  big  con- 
servatory, while  almost  immediately  Kittredge  St. 
John,  his  face  still  feverish  and  flushed,  made  his 
way  in  from  another  and  stepped  forward  into 
the  midst  of  his  friends — Varnum,  Holbrook,  and 
Olyphant. 

They  hailed  him  with  glee. 

"  St.  John,  what's  become  of  Bonwit?  "  queried 
Olyphant,  the  spokesman  of  the  party. 


MR.  BONWIT  UNDER  BONDS      49 

4  The  last  I  saw  of  him  he  was  with  Mrs.  Bel- 
lairs,"  answered  St.  John  with  a  significant  smile. 

"  But  he  was  to  join  us  in  a  game !  Suppose 
you  take  his  place  ?  "  suggested  Olyphant. 

The  four  men  strolled  to  the  Iroquois  Club, 
sought  the  card-room,  and  started  in  to  play.  But, 
for  some  reason  or  other,  the  men  were  much 
less  absorbed  in  the  game  than  was  usually  their 
wont. 

"  He  must  be  fifty  at  least,"  came  from  Oly- 
phant while  the  cards  were  being  dealt.  It  was 
not  necessary  for  the  name  to  be  mentioned  in  or- 
der that  the  friends  should  know  about  whom  the 
broker  was  speaking. 

"Fifty-five,  if  he's  a  day!"  declared  the 
Major  irritably. 

"  Old  enough,  at  any  rate,  to  make  an  ass  of 
himself,"  was  another  contribution  of  Olyphant's. 

"  Well,  by  thunder,"  insisted  Varnum,  "  it  looks 
to  me  as  if  he'd  got  her!  Or,  rather,  she's  got 
him,  which,  needless  to  say,  is  a  very  different 
thing." 

Finally  the  Major  slapped  his  cards  down  upon 
the  table  and  started  up,  saying  :— 

"  I've  got  to  quit — I  can't  play.     I  don't  mind 


5o  THE  CATSPAW 

saying  that  I've  got  the  lovely  Mrs.  Bellairs  on 
my  brain  to-night.  How  about  you,  Kitt?" 

They  all  turned  to  St.  John. 

St.  John  smiled  soberly. 

"  It's  not  the  widow  that  I'm  thinking  of,"  he 
said  evasively. 

St.  John  lived  at  the  Elberon,  a  few  blocks  down 
the  street,  and  he  and  little  Varnum,  whose  home 
was  around  the  corner  from  the  Elberon,  started 
off  together.  As  they  reached  the  Elberon,  Var- 
num suddenly  turned  to  St.  John  and  held  out  his 
hand. 

"  Kitt,"  he  said,  "  I've  got  a  confession  to  make 
to  you— one  that  I  hope  you'll  be  glad  to  hear.  Do 
you  know  that,  for  months  and  months,  while  all 
the  town  was  taking  off  its  hat  to  you,  I  didn't  like 
you?  Don't  ask  me  why — I  didn't,  that's  all." 

Kittredge  St.  John  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Considering  that  I've  never  liked  myself  any 
too  well,  I'm  not  surprised  ..." 

"  But  I  was  wrong,"  said  Varnum,  his  pressure 
deepening  upon  St.  John's  hand,  "  and  the  town 
was  right.  Now,  I  want  to  be  your  friend,  your 
very  best  friend,  if  I  may,  and  if  there's  ever  any- 
thing that  I  can  do,  anything  at  all,  remem- 


MR.  BONWIT  UNDER  BONDS      51 

ber  .  .  ."  The  little  fellow  broke  off  in  em- 
barrassment, for  he  was  hopelessly  in  love  with 
Dorothy  Paget,  and  instinctively  he  felt  that  he 
had  little  hope  of  success,  with  St.  John  in  the 
running. 

"  Thank  you,  old  boy.  You're  more  than  kind. 
I  shan't  forget  your  words." 

As  Varnum  rounded  the  corner  toward  his 
home,  St.  John  stood  for  a  moment  looking  after 
him,  then  plunged  into  the  brilliant  light  of  the 
Elberon,  and  took  the  elevator  to  his  apartments. 

Five  minutes  had  not  elapsed  after  his  entrance 
when  there  came  a  knock  upon  the  door.  To  his 
"  come  in,"  a  bell-boy  entered  and  handed  him 
an  envelope.  It  was  addressed  in  the  handwriting 
of  a  woman ;  he  tore  it  open  hastily  and  withdrew 
its  contents — the  blank  half  of  a  postal-card. 

With  a  puzzled,  interested  look  upon  his  face, 
St.  John  tossed  the  card  and  envelope  upon  his 
chiffonier,  then  he  turned  out  the  lights,  and  went 
to  bed. 


CHAPTER  V 

DUPES 

MAJOR  HOLBROOK,  the  astute  and  genial  coun- 
sellor at  law  of  the  Town  of  M ,  sat  very  much 

at  ease  with  all  the  world.  His  feet  were  cocked 
up  upon  the  table  and  he  leaned  far  back  in  his 
revolving-chair. 

He  was  musing  pleasantly  upon  the  pleasures 
of  the  night  before.  "  The  Tony  Shackletons  cer- 
tainly know  how  to  dig  out  a  good  time  for  us 
all,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  And,  as  for  Roxane 
Bellairs  ..."  His  thoughts  trailed  off  into  a 
reverie.  He  wondered  what  the  town  would  say 
if  he  and  the  fascinating  widow  should  make  a 
match,  wondered  what  the  future  would  hold  for 
him  with  a  woman  like  her  at  his  side,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  Bellairs  millions!  His  thoughts 
were  interrupted  by  the  door  being  gently  opened; 
he  looked  up  to  see  a  woman  entering. 

In  an  instant  the  Major  forsook  his  undignified 
position,  dropped  his  neatly-shod  feet  to  the  floor, 
and  drew  himself  upright. 

52 


DUPES  53 

"  Well,  if  it  isn't  Mrs.  Bellairs !  "  he  exclaimed, 
a  happy  smile  on  his  face.  "  Why,  I  was  just 
thinking  of  you !  " 

"  A  penny  for  your  thoughts,"  she  said,  taking 
a  seat  near  the  window, — for  her  face  was  one 
that  could  stand  the  test, — where  the  full  light  of 
the  sun  fell  upon  her. 

The  Major  flushed  slightly. 

"  It  takes  a  good  deal  of  courage,  sometimes,  to 
tell  one's  thoughts.  I  wonder,"  he  went  on, 
drawing  closer  to  her,  "  I  wonder  if  I  dare  ..." 

"  Last  night,  at  the  Tony  Shackletons',  you 
might  have  dared,  but  ..." 

"Last  night!"  he  broke  in  grumblingly. 
"  What  opportunities  did  I  have — why,  only  once 
did  I  catch  sight  of  you,  and  then  this  Bon- 
wit  .  .  ." 

Roxane  laughed  a  merry  laugh  and  looked  the 
Major  bewitchingly  in  the  eyes. 

"  This  Bonwit,"  she  repeated,  imitating  his  tone 
perfectly.  "Well,  what  about  Mr.  Bonwit?" 

"U'm,"  said  the  Major,  settling  himself  into 
his  seat.  "  Suppose  you  tell  me  something  about 
Bonwit?" 

Roxane   shrugged  her  shoulders  expressively; 


54  THE  CATSPAW 

for  answer  she  delved  into  her  little  handbag  and 
drew  forth  a  flat  package  tied  with  red  tape. 

"  There,"  she  said,  tossing  it  over  lightly  to- 
ward him,  "  there  are  eighteen  one-thousand- 
dollar  Tri-State  bonds.  Won't  you  count  them, 
please?  " 

"  Why  count  them?  "  he  returned  with  a  smile. 
"Your  word  ..." 

"No,  no,"  she  said  with  a  shake  of  the  head; 
and,  deftly  seizing  the  bundle,  untied  the  knot, 
and  laid  before  him,  one  after  the  other,  the 
eighteen  bonds — bonds  that  she  had  received  that 
morning  by  special  messenger  from  Philander 
Bonwit. 

"  They're  gilt-edged,  my  dear  Mrs.  Bellairs. 
But  how  does  it  happen  that  you  did  not  consult 
me  about  this  investment?"  he  asked  with  some 
show  of  the  annoyance  he  felt.  "  Whom  did  you 
consult?" 

"  Now,  my  dear  Major,  you  must  not  get  too 
curious,"  she  answered  with  a  tantalising  little 
laugh.  "  I  should  like  to  borrow  upon  these 
bonds,"  she  went  on,  smiling.  "  May  I?  " 

The  Major  still  looked  annoyed. 

"  But,  my  dear  Mrs.  Bellairs,  why  do  you  come 


DUPES  55 

to  me  ? "  There  was  elaborate  protest  in  his 
voice.  "  Why  did  you  not  go  to— well,  I  believe 
we  were  talking  about  Mr.  Bonwit,  were  we  not? 
Why  did  you  not  go  to  Bonwit  ?  " 

The  Major's  voice  was  so  intensely  authori- 
tative that  Roxane  drew  herself  up  a  little  and 
gave  him  a  slightly  resentful  glance  before 
answering : — 

"  For  a  very  good  reason,  my  dear  Major — 
because  I  knew  that  you  would  refuse  me  noth- 
ing; Mr.  Bonwit  might  ..." 

The  Major  sniffed  suspiciously. 

"  Before  we  go  any  further,  let  me  ask  you  a 
question.  Is  there  anything  between  you  and 
Bonwit?" 

Roxane  tightened  her  lips,  pouted  petulantly, 
gathered  up  her  bonds,  tied  them  with  the  red 
tape,  and  returned  them  once  more  into  her  bag. 

"  If  you  will  not  talk  business,  Major  Hoi- 
brook,"  she  said  with  a  suddenly  repressed  man- 
ner, "  why,  then,  I'll  have  to  say  good-morning." 

The  Major  looked  hard  at  her;  she  seemed  to 
be  on  the  point  of  open  warfare.  So,  before  she 
had  reached  the  door,  he  called  her  back,  promis- 
ing that  he  would  confine  himself  to  business,  if 


56  THE  CATSPAW 

she  would  consent  to  talk  about  themselves 
later. 

Roxane  returned  slowly,  an  indulgent  smile  on 
her  face. 

"  Well,  then,  let's  see  how  well  you  can  talk 
business,"  she  said,  settling  herself  once  more  at 
the  desk;  and  again  she  drew  forth  a  package  tied 
with  tape,  and  tossed  it  before  him  on  the  desk — 
a  package  that  was  the  counterfeit  presentment  of 
the  other,  and  that,  while  it  seemed  to  consist  of 
eighteen  bonds,  in  reality  could  boast  of  but  two : 
one  bond  on  the  top,  and  another  on  the  bottom, 
and  sandwiched  in  between  were  sixteen  docu- 
ments worth  exactly  the  paper  they  were  written 
on — and  nothing  more. 

"How  much  do  you  want,  Mrs.  Bellairs?" 
asked  the  Major,  hardly  glancing  at  the  package. 

"  Ten  thousand  dollars,"  she  returned  in  a  dis- 
tinctly persuasive  voice. 

'Why  not  eighteen  thousand?"  he  suggested. 
"  The  bonds  are  selling  at  a  premium." 

Mrs.  Bellairs  found  it  difficult  to  frame  an 
answer  at  once.  At  length  she  ventured : — 

"  No,  ten  thousand  dollars  is  what  I  want,  but 
I  should  like  it  in  cash,  if  possible,  right  away." 


DUPES  S7 

And  the  Major,  immediately  seizing  his  cheque- 
book, wrote  out  a  cheque  for  the  required  amount 
and  passed  it  over  for  her  to  endorse. 

"  Oh,  dear,  it's  on  Mr.  Bonwit's  bank,"  she 
said  protestingly. 

"  But  what  of  that?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Oh,"  she  half-gasped,  "  I  should  prefer  that 
Mr.  Bonwit  knew  as  little  as  possible  about  my  af- 
fairs, Major  Holbrook." 

The  Major's  eyes  flashed  hopefully. 

"  He  is  not  persecuting  you  with  his  attentions 
— making  himself  disagreeably  attentive;  is  he, 
Mrs.  Bellairs?" 

The  widow  looked  down  and  sighed. 

"  Don't  ask  me,  Major  Holbrook.  I  merely 
say  to  you  that  I  could  not  go  to  Mr.  Bonwit." 
She  stopped  a  moment,  and  then,  through  lids  that 
seemed  to  veil  her  glance,  rendering  it  all  the  more 
subtle  and  fascinating,  she  went  on :  "  Let  this 
matter  be  between  ourselves — just  you  and 
I  ..." 

And  Roxane  Bellairs  was  successful  in  her  ef- 
forts. Five  minutes  later  she  had  shut  her  little 
handbag  with  a  final  click;  inside  of  it  reposed 
ten  thousand  dollars  in  one-thousand-dollar  bills! 


58  THE  CATSPAW 

"  You  have  done  me  a  service,  my  dear  Major, 
that  I  shall  not  soon  forget,"  she  said  as  she  left. 

Later  that  day  Roxane  paid  a  visit  to  Archie 
Varnum,  the  little  stock-broker,  St.  John's  friend. 

Varnum  was  quite  as  pleased  to  see  her  as  had 
been  the  Major,  though  his  reason  was  of  a  dif- 
ferent nature. 

"  Am  I  to  understand,  Mrs.  Bellairs,  that  our 
friend  the  president  of  the  Manufacturers'  Na- 
tional is  to  be  congratulated?  "  he  hazarded,  after 
some  brief  reference  had  been  made  to  the  enter- 
tainment of  the  night  before. 

Roxane  laughed  in  spite  of  herself.  It  was  as  if 
the  mention  of  Mr.  Bonwit  was  a  subject  that 
amused  her.  At  any  rate,  it  gave  Varnum  the 
immediate  impression  that  Mr.  Bonwit  had  es- 
sayed to  win  the  widow,  in  his  clumsy  way,  and 
had  failed.  So  that  Varnum,  like  his  visitor,  at 
once  became  amused;  but,  unlike  the  Major,  he 
saw  that  the  widow  was  bent  upon  business, 
and  he  proceeded  immediately  to  the  matter  in 
hand. 

Again  the  little  handbag  was  brought  into 
requisition;  and  the  widow — whom  Varnum,  to- 
gether with  every  other  resident  of  the  town,  knew 


DUPES  59 

to  be  worth  millions — laid  before  his  gaze  sixteen 
bonds  of  the  Tri-State  Road,  as  genuine  as  gold 
itself. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Varnum,  could  you,  by  any 
hook  or  crook,  obtain  for  me  or  negotiate,  as  you 
call  it,  a  loan  this  morning  upon  these  bonds?" 

"  Why  not  sell  them?  "  he  asked.  "  Tri-State 
is  in  bully  shape — this  is  the  time  to  sell.  I  can 
sell  them  for  you." 

"  Oh,  but  I  don't  want  to  do  that !  A  loan  is 
what  I  want." 

"  That's  easy,  too !  What  do  you  want — fifteen 
thousand?  " 

Roxane  hesitated.  For  an  instant  she  wondered 
vaguely  to  herself  why  she  had  not  asked  that 
amount  of  the  Major? 

"How  much  have  you  here  on  hand?"  she 
asked,  feeling  her  way  cautiously. 

Whereupon  Varnum  consulted  his  books. 
When  he  came  back  he  suggested  that  he  take  her 
bonds  over  to  Bonwit's  bank,  concluding  with: — 

"  It  won't  take  a  minute." 

"  No,  no,  I  don't  wish  you  to  do  that  I  " 

"The  First  National  then,  or  the  Federal 
Trust?" 


60  THE  CATSPAW 

"  No.  How  much  have  you  here,  Mr.  Var- 
num?" 

"  About  Thirteen  Thousand — I  can  let  you  have 
twelve  of  that  as  easy  as  not." 

"In  cash?" 

"  Why,  yes,  of  course — only  too  glad  to  be  of 
service  to  you." 

Roxane  flushed  at  the  sincere  admiration  in  his 
eyes,  and  in  her  embarrassment  began  to  gather 
up  the  bonds,  tying  carefully,  though  with  studied 
carelessness,  the  red  tape  about  them;  while  Var- 
num,  looking  down  upon  her,  thought  what  an 
attractive  woman  she  was. 

Suddenly,  she  looked  up,  and  said  with  uncom- 
promising candour: — 

"  Mr.  Varnum,  why  is  it  that  you  never — never 
make  love  to  me?  Oh,  don't  look  frightened! 
Not  in  earnest,  of  course.  But  don't  you  see  that 
then  Mr.  ..." 

"  Bonwit  would  see  that  he  had  no  show,  is  that 
it?  "  he  cut  in,  for  Archie  saw  her  point  at  once: 
Bonwit  was  pestering  the  life  out  of  her  and  she 
wanted  to  put  a  stop  to  it.  Therefore,  without 
waiting  for  an  answer,  he  continued:  "  I  see,  you 
want  me  to  scare  him  off.  But  where  would  I 


DUPES  6 1 

come    in?     Wouldn't   they    all   be   laughing    at 
me?" 

At  once  Roxane's  face  took  on  an  expression  of 
mock  solemnity. 

"  And  we  wouldn't  want  that,  would  we,  Mr. 
Varnum?  "  Then,  with  one  of  her  quick  changes, 
she  became  serious.  "  I  don't  mind  telling  you 
that  I  know  your  secret — know  that  you're  in  love 
with  Dorothy  Paget.  But  you  are  too  self-effac- 
ing, not  persevering  enough,  and  you'll  lose  her  if 
you  don't  look  sharp."  She  paused  a  moment, 
wrinkled  her  brow,  and  then  suddenly  asked :  "  By 
the  way,  who  is  this  Mr.  St.  John  that  he  should 
come  between  you  and  her?  " 

Varnum's  face  clouded  over  for  an  instant  be- 
fore answering: — 

"  Since  we  are  getting  so  confidential,  Mrs. 
Bellairs,  I  may  as  well  admit  to  you  that  I  do 
love  Dorothy  Paget,  but  I  love  her  far  too  well 
to  force  myself  on  her,  especially  when  she  makes 
it  so  evident  that  she  prefers  some  one  else — my 
friend,  Kittredge  St.  John." 

Roxane  made  a  little  gesture  of  impatience. 

"  I  see,"  she  said,  looking  him  full  in  the  face, 
"  you  need  some  one  to  help  you.  Why  not  let 


62  THE  CATSPAW 

me  take  possession  of  this  intruder  and  give  you 
your  chance."  The  sudden  hope  that  she  per- 
ceived in  his  eyes  affected  her  strangely;  so  that, 
when  she  bade  him  good-bye,  it  was  with  the  most 
encouraging  tone  that  she  added :  "  But  mind,  Mr. 
Varnum,  I  shall  expect  you  to  succeed." 

Entering  a  cab,  Mrs.  Bellairs  drove  down  the 
street  four  blocks,  turned  two  blocks  west,  and  en- 
tered the  building  in  which  was  Jerome  Olyphant's 
office. 

Olyphant  welcomed  her,  so  to  speak,  with  open 
arms.  Unfortunately,  or  fortunately,  perhaps, 
Olyphant  was  not  a  bachelor,  a  fact,  he  had  to 
acknowledge,  that  might  easily  bring  about  embar- 
rassing situations.  Nevertheless,  he  had  little 
difficulty  in  persuading  himself  that  in  this  case 
he  ran  no  risks.  And,  far  from  thinking  that  any 
complications  would  be  apt  to  grow  out  of  his  re- 
lations with  the  excellent  Mrs.  Bellairs,  he  was 
satisfied  that  the  fact  of  his  being  a  married  man 
would  merely  lend  additional  spice  to  the  routine 
of  pleasure  which  the  lady  was  pursuing  so 
vigorously. 

Moreover,  it  flattered  him  to  have  been  singled 
out  of  all  the  staid  old  clubmen  in  the  town  as  one 


DUPES  63 

who  understood  the  secret  of  the  solution  of 
the  mystery  of  life.  Furthermore,  inordinately 
selfish  as  he  was  and  almost  a  bankrupt,  while  his 
friends  were  all  prosperous,  it  is  no  wonder  that 
he  secretly  hoped  that  some  of  the  Bellairs  mil- 
lions could  find  their  way  into  his  coffers. 

When  Roxane  called  he  was  expecting  her,  and, 
therefore,  he  made  no  attempt  to  disguise  the 
pleasure  in  his  welcome. 

With  Olyphant  the  widow's  manner  was  quite 
different  from  what  it  had  been  with  the  others, 
whom  she  had  boldly  courted.  But  Olyphant 
needed  no  such  stimulus;  and  she  forced  herself 
to  be  contented  with  an  occasional  blush  and  the 
effect  that  was  to  be  best  obtained  by  downcast 
lids. 

"  Mr.  Olyphant,"  she  began  hurriedly,  "  my 
time  is  very  limited.  You  have — you  have  the 
deed  ready,  have  you  not?  " 

Olyphant  nodded,  and  said  with  a  somewhat 
sober  little  smile: — 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  my  little  place  go  into  such 
good  hands.  But,  Mrs.  Bellairs,"  he  went  on,  the 
money  question  ever  uppermost  in  his  mind,  "  you 
are  getting  a  bargain." 


64  THE  CATSPAW 

"  Indeed,  I  know  it,"  she  answered  gratefully. 
"  To  my  mind,  it's  the  only  home  in  town.  I 
searched  high  and  low  for  something  that  suited 
me,  until  I  saw  your  villa,  and  then  I  was  deter- 
mined that  it  should  be  mine." 

Olyphant  pressed  his  finger-tips  together  and 
frowned  a  troubled  frown. 

"If  it  were  not  for  the  fact  that  my  creditors 
are — Well,"  he  ran  his  fingers  through  his  tousled 
hair,  "  it's  a  case  of  must  or  you  couldn't  have 
the  Olyphant  homestead  at  any  price;  that  is,  un- 
less " — he  added  gallantly,  his  eyes  brightening—- 
"  unless  you  happened  to  be  a  part  and  parcel  of 
the  consideration.  But  that,  apparently,  being  out 
of  the  question  .  .  . " 

Roxane  now  glanced  toward  him  with  a  look 
of  archness,  the  subtlety  of  which  claimed  his  at- 
tention for  the  moment. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Olyphant,"  presently  she  returned, 
her  eyes  opening  wide,  "  of  course,  you  must  never 
forget  that,  although  the  place  is  mine,  I  shall 
always  think  of  it  as  a  place  where  its  former  owner 
has  every  right,  shall  be  always  welcome.  Do  not 
think  yourself  an  evicted  tenant,  I  beg  of  you." 

Olyphant,  at  these  somewhat  unexpected  words, 


DUPES  65 

was  about  to  seize  her  hand  and  make  some  un- 
wise avowal,  but  she  stopped  him. 

"  I  owe  you,  Mr.  Olyphant,"  she  exclaimed 
briskly,  "just  $16,000;  do  I  not?" 

"  Right,"  said  Olyphant.  "  The  purchase- 
price  is  $21,000 — the  mortgage  on  the  place  re- 
mains at  $5,000. — You're  to  sign  this  bond  and 
mortgage  for  $10,000  of  the  purchase  money,  and 
you  owe  me  $6,000." 

Roxane  quickly  drew  forth  a  roll  of  large  bills 
from  her  purse,  saying: — 

"  Mr.  Olyphant,  I  don't  suppose  it  will  make 
any  difference  to  you  if  I  give  you  one  thousand 
dollars  cash,  and  my  note  for  thirty  days  for  the 
remaining  five  thousand  dollars?" 

Olyphant  stiffened.  His  business  caution  came 
to  his  aid,  and,  for  the  moment,  he  wondered 
whether  such  a  course  would  be  safe.  The  situa- 
tion was  s  unusual;  however,  immediately  he 
found  himself  nodding  a  quick  assent. 

"Why,  certainly,  Mrs.  Bellairs,"  he  said. 
"  Your  word  would  be  enough,  and,  of  course,"  he 
went  on  with  an  imitation  of  her  manner,  "  you 
know  if  you  should  not  meet  your  note,  why  I 
might  come  up  there  and  take  the  place  back. 


66  THE  CATSPAW 

if  only  I  had  known  you  fifteen  years  ago !  "  he 
sighed. 

"  Perhaps  your  wish  ..."  She  stopped  and 
quickly  changed  the  subject.  "  You  will  take  the 
note?" 

Olyphant  was  about  to  answer  her  question  in 
the  affirmative;  but  instead  he  suddenly  held  up 
his  hand,  saying: — 

"  Just  a  moment,  Mrs.  Bellairs." 

Roxane  was  all  smiles;  he  passed  out  of  the 
room,  ostensibly  to  seek  a  blank  form,  closing 
the  door  behind  him.  In  the  next  room  he  pro- 
ceeded to  call  up  Mr.  Bonwit.  It  was  like  him  to 
wonder  whether  he  had  not  blundered  in  saying 
that  he  would  take  the  check  and  note.  For  Oly- 
phant was  Olyphant,  and  always  would  be,  even 
where  fascinating  widows  were  concerned,  and  the 
bee  of  caution  was  buzzing  insistently  in  his  brain. 
"  I'd  best  make  sure,"  he  told  himself  as  he  took 
up  the  receiver. 

For  some  time  there  was  no  response.  Then 
suddenly  Bonwit's  breathless  voice  leaped  from 
the  midst  of  the  murmurs  of  the  wire. 

"  Hello,  old  man,  this  is  Olyphant." 

11  Oh !  "  gasped  Bonwit,  "  you're  in  luck  to  catch 


DUPES  67 

me.  Been  on  the  jump  all  the  afternoon — just 
stepped  in  here  this  minute.  What's  up,  Oly- 
phant?" 

Olyphant  lowered  his  voice. 

"  It's  confidential,"  he  returned.  "  I'm  closing 
a  little  deal  with  Mrs.  Bellairs." 

"What?"  cried  Bonwit  in  astonishment. 

"  Yes,"  laughed  the  other.  "  Never  mind  what 
it  is."  Then  Olyphant  thought  he  would  risk  it. 
"  She  does  not  want  you  to  know,  Bonwit.  But, 
look  here,  I'm  taking  her  cheque,  do  you  see — for 
one  .  .  ." 

"  Dollar?  "  laughed  Bonwit. 

"  Thousand,"  answered  Olyphant.  "  And  it's 
a  queer  thing  to  ask — ridiculous,  I  grant  you,  but 
it's  business — she's  good,  isn't  she?  " 

Bonwit  at  the  other  end  of  the  wire  absolutely 
snorted. 

"  Good — as  gold,"  he  answered;  and  rung  off. 

And  still  Olyphant  was  unaccountably  uneasy. 
He  got  Major  Holbrook  on  the  wire. 

"Look  here,  Major,"  he  said,  "I'm  closing 
a  little  deal  with  Mrs.  Bellairs." 

"What?"  cried  the  Major  in  astonishment. 
"What's  the  deal?" 


68  THE  CATSPAW 

"  I'm  selling  her  my  little  bijou  of  a  place  on 
Chatham  Road,  and  what  I  want  to  find  out  is 
whether  I  am  safe  in  taking  her  note  for  thirty 
days?" 

"How  much  is  the  note?" 

"  Five  thousand." 

"  Her  note  is  good  for  five  hundred  thou- 
sand," called  back  Holbrook.  "  But  what  I  can't 
understand  is,  why  she  does  this  without  consult- 
ing me?  " 

"  Oh,  I  forgot  I  She  told  me  not  to  mention  it, 
and  particularly  not  to  you,"  responded  Olyphant. 
"  Perhaps  she  intends  to  marry." 

"Indeed!"  was  all  that  Olyphant  heard  over 
the  phone;  but,  to  himself,  the  Major  was  saying 
while  his  face  was  wreathed  in  smiles:  "  The  little 
minx  didn't  want  me  to  know  ..." 

"  Much  obliged,  old  man,"  concluded  Olyphant. 

"  You  can't  go  wrong  on  that,"  were  the 
Major's  final  words.  And  hanging  up  the  re- 
ceiver, he  seated  himself  before  his  desk  where, 
with  eyes  closed  in  blissful  contemplation  of  the 
future,  he  murmured:  "I  wonder  if  Olyphant 
knows  whom  she's  going  to  marry?  But  this 
purchase — this  house — Oh,  I  see,  she  doesn't 


DUPES  69 

want  to  tell  me — wants  to  surprise  me,  I 
suppose." 

While  Olyphant,  at  the  other  end  of  the  wire, 
as  he  walked  away,  was  saying  to  himself: — 

"Marry!"  He  chuckled.  "It's  little  the 
Major  knows.  I  know  of  one  dear  friend  that 
Mrs.  Bellairs  will  be  pleased  to  entertain  on 
Chatham  Road." 

And,  when  Mrs.  Bellairs  had  departed,  he,  too, 
gave  himself  up  to  pleasant  dreams. 

That  afternoon  at  five  o'clock  Roxane  Bellairs 
stood  at  the  P.  R.  &  Q.  station  waiting  for  the 
Express  to  come  in,  and,  glancing  with  undisguised 
affection  into  the  face  of  Philander  Bonwit,  she 
said: — 

"  But  where  are  my  orchids?" 

Philander  smote  his  forehead. 

"  My  dear,  I  forgot  them.  I  was  so  busily  en- 
gaged with  other  matters.  By  the  way,  you  got 
a  package  from  ..." 

"All  aboard!  "  sang  out  the  conductor. 

"  You  must  hurry  out,  dear !  "  she  cried,  for  he 
had  entered  the  Pullman  car  with  her.  "  It  would 
never  do  for  you  to  be  carried  on." 


7o  THE  CATSPAW 

"But  that  would  be  heaven!"  he  exclaimed, 
and  then  his  brow  clouded.  "  If  it  wasn't  that  our 
wedding-trip  " — her  eyes  sought  his  for  one  brief 
instant — "  if  it  wasn't  that  I'm  going  to  be  away 
so  long  next  month,  I'd  go  with  you.  But,  as  it 
is,  .  .  ." 

"  As  it  is,"  she  answered,  "  I  shall  soon  be  back. 
Until  then — good-bye." 

"  Au  revoir,"  he  whispered.  Mr.  Bonwit  was 
seized  with  an  uncontrollable  impulse  to  kiss  her, 
but  the  car  was  too  alive  with  curious  eyes.  Has- 
tening to  the  exit,  he  swung  out  on  the  platform 
and  watched,  with  wistful  eyes,  the  train  gather 
speed  and  recede  into  the  distance. 

"  My  wife  to  be,"  he  said  half-aloud,  raptu- 
rously, "  my  life — Roxane.  .  .  .  This  week  will 
seem  ten  years." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   SLICK  MR.    ST.   JOHN 

THAT  same  evening  in  one  of  the  higher-class 
apartment-hotels  in  a  side  street  in  Manhattan, 
Roxane  Bellairs  was  waiting  for  St.  John.  There 
was  an  air  of  subdued  expectancy  about  her.  At 
every  sound  in  the  hall  without  she  started  visibly; 
she  seemed  to  be  struggling  with  the  excitement  of 
conflicting  emotions.  But,  nevertheless,  when  the 
knock  came  on  the  door  that  told  her  that  the  ex- 
pected visitor  was  actually  about  to  enter,  she 
controlled  her  impatience  to  rush  forward,  and 
allowed  a  second  or  two  to  elapse  before  she 
gave  him  permission  to  come  in.  He  entered, 
smiling. 

Kitt  St.  John's  smile  was  no  inconsiderable  part 
of  his  engaging  personality.  There  were  those 
who  could  vouch  for  its  appearance  in  moments  of 
extreme  peril;  others  remembered  how  wonder- 
fully his  face  would  light  up  when  anything  ap- 
pealed to  his  keen  sense  of  humour.  But,  whether 
he  thought  the  present  situation  dangerous  or 

71 


72  THE  CATSPAW 

amusing,  it  served  him  now  as  a  mask:  it  con- 
cealed, from  the  woman  lying  back  languidly  in  a 
chair,  putting  a  gold-tipped,  lighted  cigarette  to 
her  red  lips,  the  fact  that  he  was  aware  that  some- 
thing ominous  was  on  her  mind. 

But,  even  as  he  advanced  towards  her,  an  in- 
definable change  took  place  in  her  manner.  For 
a  moment  she  looked  into  his  roguish  eyes,  then 
she  said: — 

"  Kitt,  dear,  I  have  brought  you  sixteen  bonds 
and  money — plenty  of  it — over  twenty  thousand 
dollars,  to  say  nothing  of  a  deed." 

St.  John  watched  the  play  of  joyous  thought  as 
it  passed  over  her  beautiful  features.  To  him  the 
sum  that  she  mentioned  was  absurdly  small;  but 
under  no  circumstances  did  he  wish  to  give  her  any 
pain.  But  what  should  he  say?  Presently,  cau- 
tiously feeling  his  way,  he  ventured : — 

"  But  a  deed  to  what,  Roxane?  What  can  we 
do  with  a  deed?  " 

"  A  deed  for  Olyphant's  house — we  can  sell  it, 
Kitt — get  some  broker  to  put  the  deal  through. 
We  can  even  do  what  we  did  in  Los  Angeles — sell 
it  to  half-a-dozen  different  people  at  one  time." 
She  laughed  lightly.  "What  a  fuss  there  would 


THE  SLICK  MR.  ST.  JOHN         73 

be  when  they  all  met  at  the  Register's  Office  to 
record  their  deeds !  "  She  checked  her  laughter 
abruptly:  something  in  his  manner  told  her  that 
he  was  not  satisfied.  "  But  you  don't  seem 
pleased?  "  she  asked.  "  Have  I  failed  ,  .  ,  ?  " 

"  Failed !  Nonsense,  my  dear  girl !  "  he  has- 
tened to  assure  her.  "But  it  would  take  a  long 
time  to  make  a  haul  with  these  people  by  your 
methods.  You  might  make  good  in  time — but  the 
town  is  slow,  the  people  in  it  conservative,  cau- 
tious. You  see,  they've  made  their  money  in  trade, 
have  seen  nothing.  It  would  take  time  to  educate 
them  up  to  your — our  standard,  notwithstanding 
that  you  have  the  whole  town  at  your  feet." 

"  What  good  does  that  do  to  me  since  I  have 
left  there  for  ever?" 

St.  John  looked  at  her  sternly. 

"  But  you  have  not  left  there  forever.  You're 
going  back." 

St.  John  took  a  cigarette  from  a  box  on  the  ta- 
ble, lit  it,  and  puffed  away  at  it  coolly  for  a  few 
minutes,  glancing,  with  apparent  complacence,  at 
her  bowed  figure.  Suddenly  something  in  this  at- 
titude of  hers  smote  his  conscience,  and  he  drew 
near  to  her. 


74  THE  CATSPAW 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter,  Roxane?  Brace  up! 
Remember  that  our  compact  leads  to  but  one  end 
— you  and  I,  down  the  ages,  with  a  million."  He 
placed  a  hand  upon  her  shoulder;  indignantly  she 
broke  away  from  him. 

"  How  dare  you,  after  last  night !  "  she  cried. 

"  Last  night?    What  occurred  last  night?  " 

"  You  know  very  well  what  occurred."  Her 
face  was  aflame  now.  "  Don't  try  to  evade  me ! 
I  sent  for  you  to  tell  you  that  I  won't  have  you  run- 
ning after  that  woman  Dorothy  Paget." 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Roxie,  spare  me  to-night ! 
You  know  perfectly  well  that  J  am  only  playing  a 
game — a  part  of  our  game." 

"  Up  to  the  last  few  weeks,  yes,"  she  declared. 
"But  now — Oh,  I  saw  her  face  last  night!  You 
are  making  love  to  Dorothy  Paget  in  dead  earnest 
— and  she  loves  you.  The  game  is  getting  too 
deep  for  you,  Kitt." 

St.  John's  eyes  twinkled;  this  fit  of  jealousy 
seemed  to  please  him. 

"  But  two,  evidently,  can  play  at  that  game," 
he  observed.  "  How  about  Bonwit  and  yourself 
t— and  am  I  jealous?  " 

1  You  know  perfectly  well  how  much  I  care  for 


THE  SLICK  MR.  ST.  JOHN         75 

Bonwit,  Olyphant,  and  the  rest.  .  .  .  Except 
for  their  money,  I  detest  them  all !  " 

But  St.  John  was  not  through  with  jesting. 

"  How  about  society — they  say  that  you've 
agreed  to  marry  him  in  a  month?  If  that's  the 
case,  why  shouldn't  I  marry  Dorothy  Paget?  " 

"  Marry  her !  "  she  echoed,  flashing  him  an 
angry  look. 

"  Why,  yes,"  he  proceeded  coolly  between  puffs 
of  his  cigarette.  "  She's  the  richest  girl  in  town. 
Here's  the  situation  in  a  nut-shell :  You  marry  Bon- 
wit  and  get  all  he  has,  and  I'll  marry  Miss  Paget 
and  get  all  she  has.  It  won't  necessarily  have  to 
be  a  long  marriage,  and  then  we  .  .  ." 

"Never!"  snapped  out  Roxane,  bringing  her 
small  hand  down  with  great  force  upon  a  nearby 
table. 

"  Not  even  for  a  month?"  he  went  on  tanta- 
lisingly. 

Roxane's  anger  vanished;  she  took  refuge  in 
tears. 

"  To  think,"  she  sobbed,  "  that  you  could  talk 
to  me  like  that.  Yes,  I've  failed,  miserably  failed — 
all  I've  done— all  I've  got,  I  suppose,  is  hardly 
enough  to  keep  us  a  few  months." 


76  THE  CATSPAW 

St.  John  did  not  answer  for  a  minute;  when  he 
resumed  he  had  completely  dropped  his  bantering 
tone. 

"  Now,  look  here,  Roxane,  will  you  stop  this 
nonsense?  I'm  going  to  take  a  hand  now. 
There's  lots  of  money  in  that  town — lots  of  money 
in  the  banks,  lots  of  jewelry  in  the  safe-deposit 
vaults,  and  I'm  going  to  have  some  part  of  it. 
But  you've  got  to  believe  in  me — believe  that  what- 
ever happens,  no  matter  what  it  is,  it  is  a  part  of 
the  game." 

Roxane  looked  up  at  him  quickly.  On  her  face 
was  that  confiding  expression  that  rarely  failed  to 
induce  men  to  give  her  what  she  wanted.  Her  dis- 
belief in  him  was  decreasing  even  as  her  curiosity 
increased. 

"  You  are  telling  me  the  truth?  "  she  asked. 

"Have  I  ever  deceived  you?"  he  calmly  re- 
turned. 

"  But  you  haven't  told  me  what  your  plan  is  ?  " 
she  demanded,  ignoring  his  question  and  hoping  to 
catch  him  off  his  guard. 

"  Now,  Roxie,  there's  one  thing  that  even  you 
will  have  to  acknowledge,  and  that  is  that  Kitt 
St.  John  never  told  his  plans  and  secrets  yet  to  a 


THE  SLICK  MR.  ST.  JOHN         77 

woman.  It's  a  dangerous  thing  to  do,  and  I'm  not 
going  to  begin  to  do  it  at  this  stage  of  the  game. 
You  must  let  me  go  about  things  in  my  own 
way,  and  not  interfere — so  please  don't  ask  me 
again.  ..."  And,  with  these  words,  he  picked 
up  the  deed  lying  upon  the  table  and  looked  it 
over. 

"  By  George,  I'm  glad  you've  got  this  place ! 
It  comes  in  fine  just  at  this  time!  You  need  just 
such  a  place  as  this  where  you  can  entertain 
and  .  .  ." 

"  But  will  you  promise  me,"  she  interrupted, 
"  to  stop  paying  attentions  to  that  Paget  girl,  if 
I  go  back?" 

"  I  can  promise  you  nothing.  Unfortunately, 
that  Paget  girl  is  one  of  the  things  that  can't  be 
avoided.  You  must  believe  in  me  implicitly." 

There  was  a  pause  in  which  he  held  her  glance, 
held  it  until  his  had  triumphed  over  hers,  and 
then,  singularly  enough,  she  uttered  the  same  words 
that  two  other  people  had  uttered  but  a  few  short 
hours  before. 

"  I  do  believe  in  you,  Kitt,"  was  her  earnest 
answer.  After  a  little  while  she  added:  "How 
about  money?  "  For  a  moment  the  eyes  of  both 


78  THE  CATSPAW 

the  man  and  the  woman  longingly  rested  on  the 
Tri-State  Bonds ;  then  the  woman  seized  them  and, 
tossing  them  to  him,  said:  "They're  all  yours, 
Kitt,  take  them." 

"  No,"  quickly  returned  St.  John.  "  I  don't 
know  nor  do  I  care  to  know  how  you  got  them, 
but  you  had  better  keep  them — the  money  and  the 
bonds.  We're  running  a  big  risk  as  it  is.  I  must 
start  my  campaign  at  once.  No — you  keep  them — 
I  don't  need  them.  There's  one  thing  I  must  have, 
however, — that's  a  motor-car." 

St.  John  rose;  she  clasped  him  excitedly  about 
the  neck. 

"Will  you  promise  me,  Kitt,  that,  whatever  this 
thing  is  that  you  are  going  to  do,  you'll  get  it  over 
with  as  soon  as  possible  ?  Then  we'll — with  what- 
ever you  get  we  can  always  manage  ..." 

"  Never  fear,  Roxie,  I'll  get  away  with  what 
I'm  after,  all  right,  and  it  will  be  a  million." 

Slowly  Roxane  picked  up  the  bonds  and  re- 
placed them  in  her  bag. 

"  And  the  motor  you  need?  "  she  asked.  "  You 
propose  getting  it — in  our  usual  way?  " 

St.  John's  knitted  brows  smoothed  out  and  re- 
sumed their  wonted  humorous,  whimsical  lines. 


THE  SLICK  MR.  ST.  JOHN         79 

"  Most  assuredly,"  he  answered.  "  Why  not?  " 

Roxane  smiled  in  spite  of  herself  at  his  un- 
bridled confidence. 

And  so  it  happened  that  on  the  following  morn- 
ing two  prosperous-looking  individuals,  a  man  and 
a  woman,  their  automobile-goggles  half-pushed  up 
across  their  foreheads,  their  clothes  liberally  sprin- 
kled with  dust — indicating  recent  motor  rides- 
presented  themselves  at  the  office  of  Champenois 
et  Cie.  Their  advent  was  welcomed  with  not  a 
little  pleasurable  excitement  by  the  dapper  young 
agent  of  Champenois  et  Cie.;  for,  although 
Champenois  et  Cie.  were  specialists — their  spe- 
cialty being  the  "  Hermes,"  a  car  that  could  travel 
seventy-five  miles  an  hour  and  that  sold  for 
seventy-five  hundred  dollars, — not  a  few  days 
had  passed  without  any  one  having  entered 
their  office  with  a  request  even  for  a  trial.  It 
looked  as  if  no  one  was  looking  for  their  car; 
the  Hermes  1910  had  become  a  drug  on  the 
market. 

"  We  wish  to  see  a  Hermes,"  said  the  man,  his 
voice  a  bit  rasping  and  high,  but  extremely  well- 
bred,  and  at  the  same  time  drawing  down  his 
motor-goggles  further  over  his  face.  *  That  is," 


8o  THE  CATSPAW 

he  added,  turning  to  the  woman  beside  him,  "  Mrs. 
Kerlin  wants  a  racing-car." 

"  If  I  can  ever  find  just  what  I  want,"  spoke 
up  the  woman,  likewise  drawing  her  goggles 
down  over  her  face;  "  but  I  don't  believe  I  can." 

"  I'm  sure  I  have  the  car  that  you  want,"  an- 
swered the  agent  with  a  courage  born  of  his  con- 
viction. "  The  Hermes  '10  is  the  only  car  in  the 
universe!  " 

"  That  remains  to  be  proven,"  said  Mrs.  Ker- 
lin, in  a  most  business-like  tone. 

Ten  minutes  later,  the  Hermes  1910 — a  long, 
low,  yellow  car — thrust  its  nose  into  the  Circle. 
Mrs.  Kerlin  was  at  the  helm,  her  companion  at 
her  side,  and  the  agent  clinging  tenaciously  in  the 
sole  seat  on  the  rear. 

Slowly  the  woman  drove  the  car  across  the 
town,  slowly  up  the  avenue  until  she  reached  more 
open  country,  and  there,  turning  to  the  agent,  she 
asked  in  a  manner  that  left  no  doubt  in  his  mind 
that  she  was  more  than  a  novice: — 

"May  I  let  her  out?" 

"  Most  assuredly,"  came  back  quickly. 

Whereupon,  Mrs.  Kerlin  immediately  threw 
the  car  into  third  speed.  Like  a  flash  it  darted 


THE  SLICK  MR.  ST.  JOHN         81 

from  one  end  of  the  long  straight  road  to  the 
other,  the  woman  handling  it  perfectly.  She 
rounded  curves,  climbed  hills,  reversed  the  ma- 
chinery, and  swung  her  car  about  time  and  time 
again  with  the  touch  of  a  veteran. 

"There's  nothing  the  matter  with  the  Her- 
mes !  "  she  sang  out  with  a  note  of  admiration  in 
her  voice.  "  Isn't  it  always  the  way — we've  tried 
every  car  in  town,  most,  and  we  didn't  find  this 
until  the  last." 

"  I  hope,"  said  the  agent  eagerly,  "  that  I  may 
be  able  to  .  .  ." 

"  Oh,  I'll  buy  this  car,  all  right,"  she  broke  in. 
"  But  I  want  this  particular  one — why,  it  has  come 
to  be  a  friend  already." 

Casually  she  asked  the  price;  it  satisfied  her,  for 
presently  she  went  on  in  business-like  tones: — 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  I  don't  want  to  be 
in  a  hurry,  but  I  can  give  you  a  hundred  dollars 
on  account  to  bind  the  bargain — to  hold  the  car 
until  Monday." 

"  It's  your  funeral,  Madge,"  spoke  up  Mr. 
Kerlin,  on  the  front  seat.  She  had  taken  the  ini- 
tiative throughout;  he,  apparently,  letting  her  go 
her  way. 


82  THE  CATSPAW 

"  Well  and  good,  madam,"  replied  the  agent, 
delighted  at  having  found  so  ready  a  customer. 

She  drove  the  car  into  town  and  drew  up  before 
the  Sandringham  on  Seventy-second  Street — a 
quiet,  large,  exclusive  family-apartment  house. 

"  If  you  will  come  in  a  moment,  I  will  write  a 
check,"  she  told  him;  whereupon  the  three  left 
the  car.  They  had  not  gone  more  than  a  few  feet, 
however,  when  she  suddenly  turned,  exclaiming  :— 

"  Why,  you're  not  going  to  leave  that  car  there 
alone!" 

The  agent  looked  uncertain.  It  was  not  wise, 
perhaps,  to  leave  the  fastest  car  in  creation  all  by 
itself  on  Seventy-second  Street,  and  he  was  about 
to  make  a  suggestion  that  involved  its  safety  when 
she  forestalled  him. 

"  Why,  Dick,"  she  said,  turning  to  Mr.  Ker- 
lin,  "  you  can  take  care  of  the  car  while  I  take 
Mr. — Mr. — in  and  make  out  the  check;  then  he 
can  take  the  car  back  to  his  garage,  and  Monday 
we  can  pay  the  rest  in  cash." 

11 1  don't  see  why  I  should  stay  in  charge  of  the 
blooming  car  ..."  grumbled  the  husband. 

'  You'll  do  just  as  I  say,"  remarked  his  wife 
sweetly,  with  a  glance  toward  the  agent. 


THE  SLICK  MR.  ST.  JOHN         83 

"I  suppose  I  shall,"  grunted  Mr.  Kerlin;  "I 
usually  do."  And  so  he  climbed  upon  the  seat, 
and  threw  one  leg  lazily  over  the  other,  while 
Mrs.  Kerlin  tripped  into  the  Sandringham,  the 
agent  following  at  her  heels. 

"  Now,"  she  said,  leading  him  into  a  little 
writing-room,  "  if  you  will  sit  here,  I  will  go  to 
my  apartment  and  bring  you  down  a  check." 

For  a  full  half-hour  that  seemed  like  minutes 
the  agent  waited.  He  was  feeling  happy,  for 
business  had  suddenly  looked  up,  and  so  the  time 
went  fast.  However,  as  time  went  on,  he  fell  to 
musing  upon  the  dilatory  qualities  of  women  in 
general  and  Mrs.  Kerlin  in  particular. 

He  rose  and  paced  the  room.  He  would  have 
looked  out  of  the  window,  but  there  was  none. 
Finally  he  strolled  to  the  desk. 

"  Would  you  mind  calling  Mrs.  Kerlin  and  say 
to  her  that  I  am  waiting — the  automobile  agent, 
if  you  please.  She  has  probably  forgotten 


me." 


"  What  name  did  you  say?  "  inquired  the  clerk, 
pricking  up  his  ears. 

"  Kerlin,"  answered  the  other,  looking  at  the 
name  upon  a  card  that  he  held  in  his  hand. 


84  THE  CATSPAW 

"  Nobody  here  by  that  name,"  was  the  quick, 
response. 

"  Perhaps  she's  a  visitor,"  returned  the  other. 

"  Nobody  here  by  that  name,"  repeated  the 
clerk,  eyeing  the  agent  suspiciously. 

"  That's  queer,"  said  the  agent,  alarmed. 
"  However,  her  husband  is  just  outside — I'll  go 
and  ask  ..." 

He  left  the  Sandringham  and  started  toward 
the  husband,  or,  at  least,  where  he  was  supposed 
to  be;  but  there  was  no  husband  there;  and,  what 
is  more,  there  was  no  car.  That  particular  Hermes 
1910  had  disappeared  completely  from  the  face 
of  the  earth. 

"What  did  they  look  like?"  demanded  the 
head  of  the  house  when  the  agent  returned  to  the 
big  garage. 

"  Why,"  stammered  the  man,  "  they  looked  like 
— why,  she  had  a — why,  he  had — he  was — why, 
hang  it  all,  they  had  on  goggles  all  the  time  and 
I  don't  know  ..." 

And,  accordingly,  the  description  that  head- 
quarters got  that  night  was  somewhat  vague. 

Three  days  later,  a  long,  low  racer,  painted 
grey,  thrust  its  nose  cautiously  into  Main  Street 


THE  SLICK  MR.  ST.  JOHN         85 

in  the  town  of  M just  as  day  was  break- 
ing. 

It  was  not  a  Hermes  car,  at  least  no  one  would 
have  recognised  it  as  such,  nor  was  it  a  Mastodon, 
nor  was  it  a  Green  Flyer.  Some  careful  hand  had 
deftly  changed  its  outer  appearance  without  alter- 
ing its  mechanism,  so  that  it  bore  a  faint  resem- 
blance to  all  three  of  these  high-class  cars,  but 
resembled  closely  none.  The  man  at  the  wheel, 
covered  and  begrimed  with  dust,  in  the  same 
vague  way  bore  some  resemblance  to  Mr.  Kerlin, 
late  of  the  Sandringham,  New  York;  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  he  was  none  other  than  Kittredge  St.  John. 

As  the  car  passed  the  Indian  Queen  Hotel,  a 
curtain  was  raised  discreetly  at  the  window  in  the 
Hobart  suite,  and  a  woman — who  under  certain 
circumstances  might  have  looked  like  Mrs.  Ker- 
lin— peered  cautiously  from  beneath  the  shade  and 
smiled.  This  woman  was  Roxane  Bellairs  .  .  . 
the  same  who  later  in  the  day  again  appeared  at 
the  Major's  office  in  response  to  her  lawyer's 
summons. 

"  I  have  something  for  you,  Mrs.  Bellairs,"  he 
announced.  "  Guess  what  it  is?  " 

"Your  kind  regards,"  she  smiled. 


86  THE  CATSPAW 

"  I  have  much  more  than  that  for  you  all  the 
time,"  he  went  on,  "  but — look  at  this."  He 
tossed  her  a  slender  piece  of  paper.  "  Your  old 
friend,  Jules  Gaspard,  has  come  to  time  again." 

She  took  the  piece  of  paper.  It  was  another 
check  for  twenty  thousand  dollars,  certified  as 
before. 

"  Oh,  well,"  sighed  the  fair  visitor,  "  I  sup- 
pose old  Gaspard  realises  after  all  that  one  must 
livel  But,  my  dear  Major,  don't  let  up  on  him 
for  a  moment." 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   RICHEST  GIRL  IN  TOWN 

IT  was  shortly  after  eight  o'clock  one  evening, 
some  days  later,  that  a  tall  young  man,  wearing 
a  long  coat  and  an  opera  hat,  strode  through  the 
rain  and  mist  and  ran  lightly  up  the  steps  of  a 
grey  stone  dwelling  in  the  west  end  of  the  town. 
The  butler  knew  and  welcomed  him  as,  unhesi- 
tatingly, and  yet  with  a  measure  of  embarrass- 
ment, he  immediately  removed  his  coat  and  passed 
into  the  room  just  off  the  hall.  Although  it  was 
spring,  there  was  a  fire  burning  in  the  grate,  and 
it  felt  good  to  him  after  all  the  damp  and  cold 
outside. 

"  Jove,  what  a  night !  "  he  said  to  himself, 
holding  his  hands  toward  the  fire  which,  at  this 
juncture,  blazed  up  as  though  in  an  effort  to  meet 
him  halfway.  "  A  bad  night  to  be  outside — a  good 
night  to  be  in." 

A  moment  later,  glancing  carelessly  about  him, 
he  perceived  on  a  table  an  evening  newspaper 

which,  apparently,  had  not  been  read,  for  it  lay 

87 


88  THE  CATSPAW 

unfolded,    face    uppermost,    its   black    headlines 
blinking  at  him  in  the  uncertain  light. 

RICHARDS  &  RIPPLE  ROBBED 
Fourth  Burglary  of  the  Series 
The  Gang  Still  Unapprehended 

"  These  fellows  seem  to  be  keeping  it  up,"  he 
mused  to  himself,  smiling  and  stretching  forth  his 
hand  towards  the  paper.  Quickly,  however,  he 
withdrew  it  and  turned  his  back  upon  the  sheet 
and  his  face  towards  the  fire,  adding:  "  No,  I  had 
better  stick  to  my  rule.  I've  made  my  bed — by 
Jove!  a  comfortable  one,  perhaps,  from  one  point 
of  view,  and  I  prefer  to  lie  upon  it.  But,  when 
I  think  of  Dorothy  .  .  . "  He  stopped  short,  a 
cloud  resting  upon  his  face. 

Presently,  he  rested  one  shoulder  against  the 
fireplace  and  nervously  stroked  a  short  Vandyke 
beard. 

"When  I  think  of  Dorothy,"  he  repeated, 
laughing,  but  with  just  a  trace  of  bitterness  in 
his  voice.  "  And  when  do  I  not  think  of  her?  " 
And  once  more  he  frowned  and  tugged  at  his 
moustache. 

"  But  things  cannot  go  on  as  they  are.    I  must 


THE  RICHEST  GIRL  IN  TOWN     89 

tell  her — not  everything,  of  course,  but  enough  to 
make  her  understand.  She  must,  somehow,  be 
made  to  understand  before — before  we  go  any 
further  ..." 

For  some  time  he  stood  reflectively  gazing  at 
the  fire,  his  head  bent  and  his  hands  thrust  deep 
into  his  pockets,  trying  to  find  some  way  out  of 
his  difficulty. 

"  Yes,  I've  got  to  tell  her  .  .  . "  he  was  say- 
ing to  himself  when  a  girl,  descending  the  stairs, 
stepped  lightly  into  the  room — a  girl,  tall  and 
slender,  with  straight  eyebrows  and  frank,  wom- 
anly eyes,  her  brown  hair  coiled  turbanwise 
around  her  pretty  head.  She  stood  at  the  threshold 
for  a  moment,  glancing  smilingly  at  him. 

"  Kittredge  ..."  she  said,  breaking  in  upon 
his  thoughts. 

The  man  turned  like  a  shot.  A  slight  frown 
had  not  left  his  face  when  he  took  the  hand  which 
she  held  out  to  him. 

"  Dorothy,"  he  began,  "  I  wish  you  would  do 
me  a  favour.  If  you  don't  mind,  I'd  rather  you'd 
call  me  by  my  first  name." 

"Your  first  name?"  she  returned  in  amaze- 
ment. 


90  THE  CATSPAW 

"Yes— it's  Henry  ..." 

"  Henry — then,  your  name  is  Henry  Kittredge 
St.  John?" 

"  Yes — that's  the  name  I  bear." 

She  glanced  up  at  him  smilingly. 

"  But — but  Kittredge  is  so  much  stronger;  be- 
sides, I  like  it  better,"  she  insisted  with  a  protest- 
ing blush. 

He  smiled  indulgently. 

"  Possibly;  but  does  it  really  make  any  differ- 
ence to  you — there's  a  reason  in  my  suggestion." 

She  made  a  slight  grimace. 

"  No — Henry,  it  does  not,"  she  replied  with 
a  laugh. 

He  bowed  gravely. 

;<  Thank  you,  Dorothy.  Some  time  I  will  ex- 
plain. ..." 

But  the  incident,  slight  though  it  was,  had,  for 
the  moment,  caused  a  slight  embarrassment  to 
spring  up  between  them.  In  an  endeavour  to  dis- 
pel it,  the  girl  crossed  the  room,  and,  taking  up  the 
evening  paper  that  was  on  the  table,  ran  her  eye 
over  it. 

"  Goodness  me,  how  these  robberies  continue !  " 
she  exclaimed.  "  I  read  all  this  stuff  through  this 


THE  RICHEST  GIRL  IN  TOWN     91 

morning.  But  isn't  it  dreadful!  Moreover,  they 
say  there  is  a  lot  that  never  gets  into  the 
papers !  " 

The  man  looked  at  her,  seemingly  inattentive  to 
her  remarks;  he  had,  unconsciously,  returned  to 
the  line  of  thought  that  she  had  interrupted. 
Surprised  that  he  made  no  reply,  the  girl  straight- 
ened up  and  said  with  much  feeling: — 

"  But,  Henry,  there  is  some  one — something 
that  I  must  speak  to  you  about — something  I  have 
a  right  to  speak  to  you  about." 

St.  John's  heart  almost  stopped  beating;  his  face 
turned  very  white. 

"  There  is  some  one  in  this  town— some  one 
whom  we  both  know  ..."  She  hesitated,  torn 
between  her  desire  to  have  it  out  with  him  and 
her  fear  that  she  might  hurt  him. 

"  Then  you  know   .    .    . "  he  began. 

"  Know  what?  "  Dorothy  interrupted  anxiously. 

St.  John  forced  a  smile. 

"  That's  what  I  was  just  wondering,  Dorothy," 
he  answered. 

"  I  know,"  the  girl  put  to  him  bluntly,  "  or 
rather  I  would  like  to  know,  just  what  there  is 
between  you  and  Mrs.  Bellairs?" 


92  THE  CATSPAW 

The  man  looked  at  her  interrogatively,  and  was 
about  to  speak  when  she  cut  in  quickly: — 

"  No,  wait;  I  must  have  my  say.  I  know  it's 
not  true,  Henry — that  there's  nothing  in  it;  but 
I've  watched  her — watched  you  both,  for  that  mat- 
ter, at  the  Shackletons' ;  everywhere,  in  fact — and 
she  always  makes  love  to  you  openly." 

"Openly?"     He  smiled. 

The  girl  caught  his  meaning,  and,  with  diffi- 
culty, suppressed  a  smile  as  she  went  on  to  ex- 
plain : — 

"  Openly  to  any  one  with  eyes  in  her  head. 
Now,  Henry,  isn't  it  so  ?  " 

"  I  remember  one  such  occasion,  possibly  two," 
he  admitted  half-seriously.  "  However,  my  eyes, 
apparently,  were  not  open  quite  as  wide  as  yours, 
for  I  don't  recall  anything  quite  so  insistent  as 
you  mention." 

"  I  think  I  know  when  a  woman  is  in  love," 
flared  up  the  girl,  dropping  her  eyes.  She  paused 
for  a  moment  to  gain  control  of  her  voice.  When 
she  went  on  there  was  still  a  slight  quivering  in 
it.  "  I  know  Mrs.  Bellairs  is  in  love  with  you." 

St.  John  stood  quite  still.  His  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  her  face  intently.  Now  he  smiled  at  her. 


THE  RICHEST  GIRL  IN  TOWN     93 

"  But,  I  understand  Mr.  Bonwit  ..." 

Dorothy  shrugged  her  shoulders  petulantly; 
while  St.  John  made  a  mental  note  of  the  fact  that 
he  had  never  seen  Dorothy  in  a  mood  like  this 
before. 

"  Bosh !  "  came  from  the  girl.  "  Can't  you 
read  this  Mrs.  Bellairs?  Why,  she's  a  born  co- 
quette— flirts  with  every  man  she  meets!  Except 
you,  of  course — with  you  she's  in  dead  earnest. 
That's  all  I  have  to  say,  and  I  think,"  she  con- 
cluded slowly,  "  that  I  have  a  right  to  say  it." 

"  You've  a  right  to  say  anything  to  me,  Doro- 
thy," he  told  her,  looking  at  her  out  of  thoughtful, 
troubled  eyes,  and  wondering  how  long  it  would* 
be  necessary  for  him  to  lie  or  act  lies.  After  a 
moment,  he  continued :  "  Let  me  ask  a  further 
confidence:  Have  you  ever  seen  me  returning  her 
advances?  " 

The  girl  searched  her  memory  carefully. 

"  Yes,"  presently  she  answered.  "  Weeks  ago, 
before — before  you  came  into  my  life  as  you  did 
that  night  at  the  Shackletons'  ..." 

St.  John  laughed  outright  at  this. 

"Are  you  sure  that  I  made  love  to  her?" 

"  Absolutely." 


94  THE  CATSPAW 

St.  John's  eyes  twinkled  in  spite  of  himself. 

"  Dorothy,  do  you  think  you  can  tell  when  a 
man  is  lying?  " 

"  I  think  I  can  tell  when  you  speak  the  truth," 
returned  the  girl  quickly. 

"  Well,  then,  let  me  tell  you  that  I  have  never 
made  love  to  Mrs.  Bellairs,  that  I  never  shall 
make  love  to  her,"  he  declared  with  rather  a  rue- 
ful smile.  "  And  what  is  more,  no  matter  how 
much  she  attracts  other  men  in  this  town,  there 
is  something  about  her  that  actually  repels  me.  I 
won't  attempt  to  explain  it." 

Dorothy  paused  a  moment  while  she  digested 
a  doubt. 

"  And  yet  she  has  some  unknown  influence  over 
you,  some  ..." 

"  Appearances  may  be  against  me,  but  surely, 
Dorothy,  you  believe  me  when  ..." 

The  girl  was  very  much  touched. 
'You — you  love  me?"  she  murmured,  lower- 
ing her  glance. 

St.  John  started  towards  her,  but  suddenly 
halted. 

'  Yes,"  he  replied  in  a  tense,  strained  voice,  "  I 
love  you.    You  knew  it  then?  " 


THE  RICHEST  GIRL  IN  TOWN     95 

She  nodded,  still  with  downcast  eyes. 

"  I've  known  it  all  along,  and  I   .    .    . " 

"  Dorothy,  if  only  I  could  ..."  He  stopped 
short,  his  voice  breaking;  presently  he  went  on  in 
tones  of  agonised  entreaty :  "  Wait — wait  until  you 
have  heard  the  rest — heard  me  out!  " 

The  girl  glanced  at  him  in  a  startled  sort  of 
way. 

"The  rest?"  she  repeated. 

"  Unfortunately,  yes,"  he  responded  in  a  low 
voice. 

Again  she  searched  his  face;  he  stretched  forth 
his  arms,  and  just  as  quickly  withdrew  them, 
though  there  was  encouragement  in  the  voice  that 
said  to  him: — 

"  But  does  anything  matter  now  that  we  .   .  . " 

"  Nothing  to  me,  Dorothy,  unless  it  does  to 
you." 

Dorothy  moved  quietly  over  to  the  sofa,  and 
motioned  to  him  to  take  a  seat  beside  her. 

"  Nothing  can  make  any  difference  with  me," 
she  said  slowly,  measuring  every  word,  "  of  that 
I'm  sure.  But  about  this  something  that  you  wish 
to  tell  me — it  isn't  about  a  woman,  and  it  isn't 
about  .  . "  She  broke  off  abruptly  and  added, 


96  THE  CATSPAW 

laughing:  "  Surely  you  haven't  been  doing  any- 
thing wrong,  such  as  robbing  jewelry  stores  or 
anything  of  that  kind;  have  you?  " 

He  took  the  sheet  which  she  waved  carelessly 
before  him,  rose,  and,  without  a  word  of  explana- 
tion, dropped  it  quickly  in  the  fire;  it  blazed 
up  and  made  the  room  suddenly  light;  and 
not  until  the  flame  had  died  away  did  the  man 
speak. 

"  I  wonder,  Dorothy,  whether  you  can  realise 
what  it  means  to  be  broke,  to  wander  about  the 
streets  of  a  great  city  with  no  place  to  lay  your 
head,  day  after  day  trying  to  get  a  job  and  never 
getting  it,  to  become,  in  short,  an  outcast  upon  the 
face  of  the  earth?  " 

His  outburst  was  almost  pathetic.  The  sight 
of  this  man,  usually  so  self-controlled,  with  now 
not  a  trace  left  of  his  devil-may-care  manner, 
caused  the  girl's  puzzlement  to  grow. 

"  What  a  question  to  ask!  "  she  said  at  length. 

"  Not  such  a  question,  if  you  stop  to  consider 
that  it's  a  part  of  my  life's  history." 

She  looked  at  him  doubtfully. 

"Surely,  Henry,  you're  jesting.    ..." 

"  On  the  contrary,  it  is  all  too  true  that  I — a 


THE  RICHEST  GIRL  IN  TOWN     97 

man,  apparently  without  a  care — have  been 
through  it  all." 

The  girl  could  not  refrain  from  giving  a  little 
inarticulate  cry.  She  made  a  movement  to  lay 
her  hand  upon  his  arm,  but,  though  he  noted  the 
action  with  inward  satisfaction,  nevertheless  he 
waved  her  back. 

"  No,  no,  not  yet;  you  must  wait  until  I  have 
finished." 

With  an  effort,  the  girl  remained  silent;  pres- 
ently he  went  on: — 

"  What  does  the  town  know  of  Kitt  St.  John? 
Practically  nothing.  Some  day  " — he  was  speak- 
ing rapidly  now — "  some  day  I  will  tell  you  of 
something  that  I  have  done — a  foolish  thing,  the 
thought  of  which  has  sometimes  made  me  stand 
aghast.  At  first,  it  is  true,  I  approved  of  it;  but 
how  many  times  since  have  I  denounced  myself 
for  doing  it!  In  a  measure,  I  am  reconciled  to 
the  situation,  for,  had  I  not  taken  the  step,  I  prob- 
ably would  never  have  met  you.  Still  that  only 
complicates  what  was  already  too  much  compli- 
cated." 

"  I'm  afraid,"  said  the  girl  with  a  faint  smile, 
41  that  I  do  not  understand.  Though  I  do  under- 


98  THE  CATSPAW 

stand,"  she  added  gravely,  "  that  to  you  it  seems 
most  serious." 

"  I  wish  I  might  tell  you  what's  on  my  mind, 
but  I  must  be  somewhat  vague.  You  see,  it's 
largely  a  question  of  compact."  St.  John  flushed 
a  little  and  drew  in  a  deep  breath.  '  There  is 
one  thing  more  that  I  would  like  to  ask  you,"  he 
resumed  after  a  moment.  "  Suppose  that  to-mor- 
row I  were  to  be  stripped  of  every  worldly  thing 
that  I  possess;  that  I  were  to  be  jeered  at  by  my 
friends  even,  are  you  sure  that  your  feelings  to- 
ward me  would  be  the  same  ?  " 

Some  note  of  battle  in  the  man's  voice,  rather 
than  the  sentiment  itself,  caused  the  girl  to  reply 
with  much  feeling: — 

"  If  that  were  to  happen  I  would  come  to  you — 
go  with  you  to  the  ends  of  the  world,  if  need 
be." 

St.  John  took  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her  for 
the  first  time. 

"  Dearest  girl,"  he  murmured,  "  you  make  me 
thoroughly  ashamed.  A  man  should  shield  the 
name  of  the  woman  he  loves  from  whatever  ridi- 
cule may  attach  to  his."  And  then,  somewhat 
abruptly,  so  it  seemed  to  the  girl,  he  asked:  "  I 


THE  RICHEST  GIRL  IN  TOWN     99 

believe  it  is  not  generally  known  that  I  have  called 
here  with  any  frequency?" 

She  answered  with  a  shake  of  her  head. 

"It  is  better  so — at  least,  for  the  present — that 
there  be  no  formal  engagement,  nothing  settled. 
I  am  asking  much  of  you,  dear  one,  altogether  too 
much.  But  you  can  trust  me?  And  you'll  believe 
in  me  no  matter  what  reaches  your  ears?"  He 
laughed  a  bitter  laugh.  "  I  suppose  millions  of 
men  have  said  all  this  before,  and  thought  they 
meant  it,  too." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence. 

"  Unfortunately,"  he  resumed,  "  there  are  cer- 
tain things  I  am  forced  to  do.  Often  I  cannot  ex- 
plain why  I  am  obliged  to  be  at — well,  here,  there, 
everywhere.  But,  if  you  can  trust  me,  it's  half 
the  battle.  More  than  that,  it's  all  the  battle." 

"  I  can,"  returned  the  girl,  and  the  light  of  a 
great  affection  shone  in  her  calm,  brown  eyes. 

"  I  suppose  millions  of  girls  have  said  that, 
too,"  she  added  in  her  turn,  "  and  found  out  later 
their  mistake.  However,  I  don't  want  you  to  think 
that  I  am  lacking  in  prudence  or  discretion  or 
common-sense.  Understand  me,  I'm  dying  of 
curiosity  to  know  what  all  this  mystery  means." 


ioo  THE  CATSPAW 

Her  eyes  met  his  in  a  clear,  straight  glance.  "  But, 
Henry,  I'm  taking  you  on  trust — yes,  just  this  once 
I  take  you  on  trust.  If  you  are  deceiving  me  in 
what  you  say,  or  what  you  are,"  she  concluded, 
glancing  at  him  with  a  smile  radiant  with  confi- 
dence, "  why,  I  am  deceived  indeed." 

"  A  little  patience  and  I  shall  be  free  to  claim 
you  as  .  .  ."  He  did  not  finish  the  sentence; 
instead,  he  stretched  forth  his  arms  and  held  her 
in  one  long  embrace. 

A  few  minutes  later,  with  Dorothy  at  his  side, 
he  stepped  into  the  hall  and  donned  his  long, 
black  coat.  He  took  from  his  pocket  a  gold, 
hunting-case  watch,  and,  without  opening  the  case, 
touched  a  small  spring:  it  was  a  repeater,  and  it 
struck  the  hour. 

"  Half-past  nine !  "  he  ejaculated.  "  Great 
Scott,  I'm  due  at  the  club  now !  " 

A  moment  more  and  Kittredge  St.  John  had 
passed  out  into  the  night. 

For  a  long  time  after  he  had  gone,  Dorothy, 
alone  where  they  had  spent  the  evening  together, 
sat  musing  before  the  glowing  embers  of  the  dying 
fire.  She  reviewed  the  history  of  the  past  few 
months  and  wondered  whether  she  were  not  mak- 


THE  RICHEST  GIRL  IN  TOWN    101 

ing  a  mistake.  A  peculiar  thought  was  in  her 
mind,  one  that,  even  whilst  she  harboured  it,  she 
endeavoured  to  dismiss  as  unworthy  of  her.  But, 
why  had  he  .  .  .  ?  Was  he  quite  what  he 
seemed  .  .  j.  ?  The  sudden  entrance  of  her 
maid  into  the  room,  asking  whether  she  had  not 
forgotten  the  hour,  put  an  end  to  her  musings. 

"  Goodness  me !  "  returned  Dorothy  in  some 
confusion;  "  I  had  no  idea  it  was  so  late!  What 
time  is  it,  anyway?  " 

Whereupon  the  maid  consulted  a  clock  upon  the 
mantel,  and  informed  her  mistress  that  it  was  pre- 
cisely half-past  twelve. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  PECULIAR  COMBINATION 

"  WHAT  a  beastly  night!  "  The  exclamation  fell 
from  the  lips  of  a  tall  young  man  in  a  long,  dark 
coat — a  coat  that  enveloped  him  completely — as 
he  stood,  for  an  instant,  looking  up  and  down  the 
street.  He  had  reached  the  corner  just  as  the 
electric  lights  had  gone  out — a  way  they  have  of 
doing  on  stormy  nights,  the  reason  for  which 
few  men  ever  knew,  and  those  few  have  for- 
gotten. 

If,  however,  he  were  waiting  for  a  car,  he  was 
disappointed:  in  the  distance,  the  faint  light  of 
an  electric  gleamed  through  the  moisture;  but  it 
was  receding,  as  is  the  habit  of  street  convey- 
ances. 

"A  beastly  night,"  he  repeated  with  the  same 
easy  nonchalance  and  as  though  it  were  the  pleas- 
antest  of  evenings.  "  So  much  the  better,"  he 
went  on  in  the  same  happy  frame  of  mind;  never- 
theless, he  drew  his  coat  the  closer  about  him  and 
turned  up  the  collar;  then,  removing  his  opera- 


ioa 


A  PECULIAR  COMBINATION      103 

hat,  he  shook  the  rain  from  it  and  replaced  it 
upon  his  head. 

But,  although  the  storm  continued  with  una- 
bated force,  he  did  not  seek  shelter,  but  still  stood 
upon  the  corner,  for  some  four  or  five  minutes, 
glancing  repeatedly  up  and  down  the  cross-streets, 
peering  into  the  darkness  to  see  what  he  could 
see,  and  thrusting  his  head  forward  and  to  one 
side  to  hear  what  he  could  hear;  but  he  saw  noth- 
ing and  heard  nothing;  and,  finally  thrusting  his 
hand  into  the  depths  of  his  long  coat,  he  half- 
pulled  out  a  watch. 

He  did  not  look  at  it  for  two  reasons:  first, 
because  the  rain  might  have  ruined  it;  second,  be- 
cause it  was  too  dark  to  see;  instead,  he  pressed 
a  small  spring.  It  was  a  repeater,  and  it  struck 
the  hour. 

"  Quarter  to  one,"  he  remarked  softly  to  him- 
self; "  I'm  just  in  time."  Presently  he  continued: 
"  That's  a  good  watch — one  of  the  best,  I'll 
wager,  in  the  old  man's  stock,  and  a  first-class 
stock  he  carries,  too,  or  did  up  to  night  before 
last." 

He  laughed  noiselessly  to  himself,  and  then, 
with  an  upward  glance  at  the  corner  building,  he 


io4  THE  CATSPAW 

moved  over  towards  it,  as  though  seeking  shelter 
from  the  storm. 

It  was  a  bank — one  of  the  old-fashioned  kind, 
with  a  high  corner  stoop  covered  by  the  conven- 
tional species  of  portico. 

Another  man  would  have  ascended  this  stoop 
and  taken  his  stand  under  the  portico,  which  fur- 
nished ample  protection  from  the  wet;  but  not  so 
this  man;  instead,  with  unheard  footsteps,  he 
moved  halfway  down  the  length  of  the  bank  on 
the  side  street  and  paused  in  front  of  a  ground- 
floor  window.  There  were  six  windows  on  that 
side.  He  selected  the  third  one  after  examining 
it  with  care. 

As  was  the  case  with  all  the  others,  this  win- 
dow was  barred  with  iron  bars.  They  also  were 
old-fashioned,  somewhat  wide  apart,  and  ran  from 
top  to  bottom  with  no  supporting  plate  be- 
tween. 

Having  completed  his  investigation,  the  man  in 
the  long  coat  straightened  up  and  stood  with  his 
back  to  the  window,  and  once  more  looked  about 
him.  It  was  a  bad  place  to  stand :  the  water  from 
the  roof  poured  down  in  a  steady  stream  upon  his 
head.  He  never  heeded  it,  however,  and,  after 


A  PECULIAR  COMBINATION      105 

looking  and  listening  for  another  instant,  he 
merely  wrapped  a  long  scarf  about  his  neck 
and  drew  his  coat  still  more  closely  around 
him,  and  then  stooped  down  only  to  straighten 
up  again  almost  instantly,  and  with  one  heel 
he  proceeded  to  tap-tap-tap  upon  the  flag  be- 
neath; and,  as  he  tapped,  a  rasping,  grating 
sound  that  came  from  behind  him  reached  his 
ears. 

"  Great  Scott !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  What  a  boon 
these  new  automatic  heel  machines  have  come 
to  be!  The  man  that  makes  them  deserves 
a  place  along  with  the  inventor  of  the  type- 
writer, the  sewing-machine,  and  the  cotton-gin. 
They  do  the  business  in  no  time,  and  do  it 
well." 

Suddenly  there  was  a  sharp,  whirring  sound,  and 
then  a  loud  snap. 

"  Number  one !  "  he  murmured,  and  again  he 
stooped  and  made  another  adjustment. 

Having  done  this,  he  once  more  examined  the 
window  and  the  bars;  and,  as  he  did  so,  a  small 
gleam  of  light,  that  came  from  a  tiny  incandescent 
lamp  held  in  the  hollow  of  his  palm,  played 
around  the  bottom  of  one  of  the  long  bars — an 


I06  THE  CATSPAW 

inspection  that  seemed  highly  satisfactory, 
for  immediately  he  resumed  his  tap-tap-tap- 
ping. 

In  a  little  while  there  was  another  whir  and 

another  snap. 

"  Number  two,"  he  remarked  in  a  tone  of  de- 
light. 

But  scarcely  had  the  words  left  his  lips  than, 
indistinctly  upon  the  heavy  moist  air,  came  the 
steady  tramp-tramp  of  a  man  around  the  corner; 
he  immediately  sprang  aside  with: — 

"  Great  Heavens !    What's  that?  " 

An  instant  more  and  the  man  in  the  long  coat 
took  from  his  pocket  a  small  piece  of  putty,  filling 
the  filed  crevices  with  it;  then,  with  a  diminutive 
pepper-shaker,  he  dusted  the  edges  with  fine  lead- 
pencil  scrapings  to  restore  to  them  a  metallic  ap- 
pearance ;  finally  he  blew  away  the  iron  filings  and 
noiselessly  disappeared. 

The  watchman — for  it  was  he — came  around 
the  corner,  tried  the  front  door,  then  flashed  his 
light  in  turn  into  and  upon  each  window.  All  was 
well.  He  stood  for  a  moment,  glancing  up  and 
down,  swore  under  his  breath  at  the  rain  and 
the  mud,  shook  his  stick  energetically  at  the  motor- 


A  PECULIAR  COMBINATION      107 

man  of  a  trolley-car  that  thundered  by,  and  then 
passed  on. 

Two  minutes  later  the  man  in  the  long  coat 
was  back  at  his  post,  and  the  rasping  sound  began 
again.  At  the  end  of  twenty  minutes  he  breathed 
a  sigh  of  relief. 

"Number  four!"  at  last  he  was  able  to  an- 
nounce to  himself. 

He  had  cut  two  bars  completely  through,  both 
at  the  top  and  at  the  bottom,  which  he  quietly 
removed  and  gently  laid  down  upon  the  pave- 
ment. 

The  window  also  was  an  old-fashioned  one, 
consisting  of  two  sashes,  with  a  middle  catch.  It 
would  have  been  a  simple  thing  to  force  the  catch, 
but  this  man  knew  better.  Holding  his  body 
as  a  shield  against  the  framework,  he  flashed 
his  light  along  each  edge — and  particularly 
along  the  middle — and  then  cut  two  small 
holes  in  the  glass,  and,  inserting  an  instrument, 
cut  a  number  of  wires  that  ran  around  the 
sash. 

"Blamed  idiots!"  he  muttered  to  himself. 
"  These  people  leave  their  wires  in  plain  sight. 
This  is  a  cinch !  " 


io8  THE  CATSPAW 

And  now,  having  cut  the  wire,  the  rest  was  easy. 
He  slipped  the  catch,  raised  the  lower  sash,  and 
entered.  From  the  inside  he  carefully  replaced 
the  bars  in  their  former  position,  wedging  them 
tight  with  small  steel  discs,  filled  the  spaces  with 
putty,  and  dusted  them  as  before.  Then  he  in- 
serted the  circular  discs  of  glass  where  they  be- 
longed, dipped  a  brush  in  a  small  vial,  and  ap- 
plied to  the  cut  edges  some  Canada  balsam — a 
thick,  oozing,  colourless  liquid,  possessing  the  same 
degree  of  refraction  as  does  glass  itself,  and  ca- 
pable of  uniting  two  pieces  of  glass  together  so 
that  the  point  of  contact  is  well-nigh  indistin- 
guishable. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  deftness  or  the 
skill  with  which  the  man  worked — and  he  worked 
so  that  there  were  absolutely  no  traces  of  the  job 
he  left  behind  him. 

However,  he  had  just  closed  the  window  and 
fastened  it  when  he  was  once  more  startled  by  a 
bright  light  which  entered  the  room. 

In  an  instant  he  realised  that  it  had  not  yet 
lighted  upon  himself,  and  he  threw  himself  face 
down  upon  the  floor  next  to  the  wall,  where  he 
waited  without  a  sound,  scarcely  breathing  until 


A  PECULIAR  COMBINATION      109 

he  heard  the  steady  tramp-tramp  of  footsteps  re- 
ceding in  the  distance. 

It  was  a  policeman  who  had  flashed  his  light 
upon  the  window;  but  he  had  seen  nothing — noth- 
ing except  the  regulation  iron  bars  and  a  window- 
pane  with  heavy  drops  of  rain  trickling  and  ooz- 
ing down  it. 

The  man  of  the  long  coat  jumped  to  his  feet, 
and  said  somewhat  calmly: — 

"  That  was  a  narrow  escape — almost  too  nar- 
row." He  peered  uncertainly  about  him  for  a 
moment,  and  then  he  added :  "  Now  for  the 
vault!" 

Once  more  he  struck  his  repeater;  it  was  exactly 
two  o'clock.  The  policeman,  who  was  not  regu- 
lar, had  just  gone.  But  it  was  time  for  the  watch- 
man again.  He  was  compelled  to  wait  for  some 
time,  for  the  outer  door  of  the  vault  was  illu- 
minated by  the  rays  of  an  electric  lamp,  and  was 
visible  from  the  small  hole  in  the  outer  door  of 
the  bank. 

The  tramp-tramp  had  died  away.  And  step- 
ping boldly  now  into  the  full  glare  of  this  lamp, 
keeping  his  back  the  while  toward  the  outer  door, 
it  revealed  a  tall,  broad-shouldered,  handsome 


no  THE  CATSPAW 

young  man  with  a  conventional  but  very  becoming 
Vandyke  beard,  faultlessly  attired  in  evening 
dress.  He  wasted  no  time,  however,  but  pro- 
ceeded at  once  to  kneel  down,  grasping  the  handle 
of  the  combination  lock.  This,  in  keeping  with 
every  other  thing  about  the  bank,  was  also  of  a 
bygone  age.  It  was  one  that  worked  upon  the 
letters  of  the  alphabet. 

Slowly  he  turned  the  handle  of  the  lock,  placed 
his  ear  to  the  safe  just  outside  the  circle  of  letters, 
and  listened  to  the  clink,  clink  of  the  pieces  of 
metal  falling  into  place. 

"  '  H  '  it  is  then,"  he  mused  to  himself  as  he 
heard  the  first  piece  fall  unmistakably  into  its 
proper  place.  "  K-I-T-T — a  blame  long-winded 
combination  they've  got,  too,"  he  complained. 

All  of  a  sudden  he  started  to  his  feet,  exclaim- 
ing:— 

"What's  this?" 

But  he  kept  turning  on  and  on  until  presently, 
with  a  firm  grasp,  he  turned  back  the  knob  with 
a  sharp  click;  then,  stepping  to  one  side,  swung 
open  the  door. 

"Well,  I'll  be  hanged!"  he  cried.  "The 
nerve  of  these  people  ..." 


A  PECULIAR  COMBINATION      in 

He  smiled,  shut  the  door  again,  twirled  the  lock 
to  throw  it  off  once  more,  and  then,  rapidly  turn- 
ing and  returning  it  to  letter  after  letter  without 
the  slightest  hesitation  or  difficulty,  clicked  it  back 
once  again,  and  a  second  time  swung  the  big  door 
open.  The  letters  to  which  he  had  turned,  and 
which  constituted  the  bank's  combination  for  the 
safe,  were  the  following  eleven  letters  of  the 
alphabet:  H-K-I-T-T-S-T-J-O-H-N. 

"  And  this,"  he  continued  with  a  genteel  bow 
to  the  contents  of  the  safe,  "  is  what  it  is  to  be 
the  best-known  man-about-town." 

"  Well,"  he  finally  admitted  to  himself,  "  they 
have  the  right  to  use  a  depositor's  or  any  other 
name  they  please,  though  the  one  they've  selected 
is  a  deuced  long  one.  Not  a  bad  idea,  though! 
By  the  way,"  he  went  on,  pulling  down  a  book 
marked  "  Ledger,"—4'  while  we're  about  it,  we'll 
figure  up  H.  Kittredge's  balance  in  this  bank.  I'd 
forgotten  almost  that  there  was  one  here." 

It  was  a  few  hundred  dollars  only ;  he  replaced 
the  book. 

"Now  for  business,"  he  resumed;  and  pro- 
ceeded to  force  every  door  and  drawer  in  the 
vault. 


ii2  THE  CATSPAW 

But  only  in  one  did  he  find  what  he  was  after. 
It  contained  six  bulky  packages  of  bills.  He  laid 
them  on  the  floor  outside  the  vault,  and  then  once 
more  hastily  inspected  the  interior.  There  was 
nothing  else  worth  while. 

"  This  is  a  great  business  for  Kittredge  St. 
John,"  he  remarked,  laughing  a  low,  musical 
laugh.  "  A  depositor,  by  the  mere  use  of  his  own 
name,  which  he  happens  to  know  how  to  spell, 
walks  into  his  banker's  vault  and  robs  his  banker 
— and  incidentally  himself!  Still,"  he  added, 
"  I'll  not  lose  even  the  few  hundred,  for  the  bank 
can  stand  this  loss,  and  if  they  don't  pay  me  my 
account  I'll — by  George,  I'll  sue  them!  I'm  just 
the  man  to  .  .  . "  He  broke  off  abruptly  with : 
"Good  Heavens!  what's  that?" 

However,  he  did  not  have  to  wait  long  for  an 
answer;  the  next  instant  the  steady  repeated  clang 
of  a  night-stick  upon  the  pavement — the  rap  not 
of  a  roundsman,  but  of  an  officer  calling  for  help 
— greeted  his  ears.  That  it  was  meant  for  him 
there  was  no  doubt  in  his  mind ;  and  he  fell  to  up- 
braiding himself  for  having  been  over-confident, 
while  he  hastily  donned  his  hat  and  coat,  picked 
up  his  tools,  thrusting  the  packages  of  bills  into 


A  PECULIAR  COMBINATION      113 

the  deep  pockets  of  his  coat,  and  then  noiselessly 
stepped  through  the  shadow  to  the  front  of  the 
bank. 

Looking  out  he  saw  that  the  coast  was  clear — 
temporarily  at  least,  for  the  raps  had  ceased. 

"  The  front  door,"  he  muttered.  "  I'll  try  the 
front  door  and  make  a  dash  for  it — it's  the  best 
chance.  .  .  .  I'll  have  four  ways  to  run — I'll  try 
that  first." 

He  stepped  to  the  inner  door;  it  took  him  some 
time  to  get  it  open,  and  the  process  was  some- 
what noisy,  although  the  chances  were  that  no 
one  outside  could  hear  him.  The  bolts  slid 
clumsily;  his  skeleton  keys  effected  the  rest.  And 
now  drawing  back  the  door  he  fastened  it  open 
and  stepped  into  the  vestibule,  where  he  stood  for 
a  moment,  listening;  but  there  was  no  sound  from 
without;  then,  noiselessly,  he  drew  back  the  iron 
bolts,  unlocked  the  locks,  suddenly  but  cautiously 
pulled  back  one  of  the  ponderous  sheet-iron  por- 
tals, and  stepped  out  upon  the  platform  of  the 
outside  steps. 

"The  devil!"  he  muttered  underneath  his 
breath.  For  there  below  upon  the  pavement,  mo- 
tionless as  marble,  but  silent  and  alert,  stood  two 


ii4  THE  CATSPAW 

policemen  looking  at  him  as  he  stepped  out  into 
vjew — two  policemen,  each  with  a  cocked  revolver 
in  his  hand. 

For  the  moment,  too  startled  to  speak,  he  stood 
stock-still  and  held  his  breath;  then  he  did  what 
now  seemed  to  be  the  only  thing  to  do :  in  the  full 
glare  of  the  lanterns  and  in  the  face  of  the  guns, 
he  sauntered  slowly  down  the  steps  and  nodded  to 
the  two  policemen. 

"  Officers,"  he  said  somewhat  sharply,  "  it  looks 
to  me  as  though  a  robbery  had  been  committed." 

"  It  looks  that  way  to  us,"  one  of  them  remarked 
grimly. 

The  man  in  the  tall  hat  drew  forth  a  cigar-case 
and  lit  a  cigar — lighted  it  while  one  officer  had  a 
hand  upon  his  shoulder,  and  yet  so  unconcerned 
was  he  that  the  hand  that  held  the  match  never 
trembled  for  an  instant. 

'  Yes,"  he  went  on  with  quiet  persistence,  "  I 
believe  somebody  has  robbed  the  bank,  and  I'll 
tell  you  why  I  think  so.  As  I  strolled  past  I  saw 
this  door  open  slowly  on  a  crack.  Being  a  director 
in  the  bank  .  .  . "  He  paused  and  blew  a  cloud 
of  smoke  into  the  dampness  of  the  night. 

"  Being  a  what?  "  demanded  the  officer. 


A  PECULIAR  COMBINATION      115 

"  A  director,"  went  on  the  other,  "  I  felt  some- 
what interested.  I  sauntered  up,  pushed  this  door 
open,  and  was  about  to  push  the  inside  door  open, 
for  that,  although  it  refused  to  yield,  I  am  sure 
is  also  unlocked.  I  fancied  I  heard  noises  in  the 
bank,  but  I  am  not  armed,  and,  to  tell  the  truth, 
I'm  something  of  a  coward.  Then  I  heard  you, 
and  stepped  back  into  the  glare  of  your  lanterns. 
Hadn't  we  better  make  an  investigation  at  once  ?  " 
he  wound  up  glibly. 

"  I  should  think  we  had,"  answered  Burke,  a 
plain-clothes  man.  For,  although  he  had  seen  St. 
John  many  times  and  knew  him  as  a  man-about- 
town,  yet  the  facts  as  represented  to  him  made  him 
suspicious.  However,  St.  John's  idea  was  the  cor- 
rect one,  so  together  the  three  men  pushed  open 
the  doors  and  entered  the  bank. 

At  a  glance  the  officers  were  satisfied  that  there 
had  been  a  robbery — that  some  clever  cracksman 
had  made  a  haul.  At  the  end  of  fifteen  minutes, 
which  they  spent  in  examining  the  evidence  that 
lay  before  them,  Burke  announced: — 

"  I  guess  we  all  three  had  better  go  back  to 
headquarters." 

"  I    don't   know    about    that,"    answered    his 


n6  THE  CATSPAW 

brother  officer;  "  perhaps  you'd  better  go  and  I'll 
wait  ..." 

"  A  good  idea,"  broke  in  St.  John.  "  A  thief 
may  yet  be  lurking  in  the  bank.  Shall  I  wait  here, 
or  shall  I  go  back  to  headquarters?  " 

Burke  glanced  with  uncertainty  at  O'Connell, 
who  nodded  to  the  other. 

"Of  course,  Mr.  St.  John,"  said  O'Connell, 
"  we  have  no  doubt  that  what  you  say  is  true  about 
your  being  interested  in  the  bank,  but  at  the  same 
time  we  got  to  do  our  duty.  We  saw  you  coming 
out,  and  the  bank's  been  robbed;  I  think  I  may 
as  well  say  to  you  that  you  can  consider  yourself 
under  arrest." 

St.  John  was  visibly  annoyed,  but,  quickly  re- 
covering himself,  he  answered: — 

"  I  think,  officers,  that  you  are  doing  the  only 
proper  thing,  and  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  place 
myself  in  your  hands." 

'  You  won't  hold  any  hard  feelings  if  we've 
made  a  mistake;  will  you,  Mr.  St.  John?"  asked 
O'Connell,  somewhat  apologetically. 

St.  John  drew  forth  his  cigar-case  once  again. 

''  To  show  you  that  there  is  no  hard  feel- 
ing, and  that  there  will  be  none,"  he  returned, 


A  PECULIAR  COMBINATION     117 

"  allow  me  to  induce  you  to  smoke  the  pipe  of 
peace." 

The  officers  gasped  with  extraordinary  pleas- 
ure :  they  were  not  accustomed  to  smoke  fifty-cent 
cigars,  and  each,  accordingly,  grasped  the  tinfoil- 
covered  luxury  with  an  eager  hand,  each  un- 
wrapped the  tinfoil  and  dropped  it  to  the  floor, 
each  bit  a  piece  off  the  end  of  his  cigar,  accepting 
Kittredge's  proffer  of  a  light,  then,  leaving  O'Con- 
nell  in  the  bank,  the  other  two  proceeded  down 
the  street. 

"  Would  you  mind,  Mr.  St.  John,"  said  Burke 
confidentially,  "  if  I  took  a  strangle  hold  of  your 
right  arm?  Business  is  business,  no  matter  how 
friendly  it  may  be." 

"  My  dear  man,  you  can  put  the  handcuffs  on 
me  if  you  want  to.  I  want  you  to  do  your  duty, 
and  nobody  is  likely  to  see  us  on  a  night  like 
this." 

But  Burke  did  not  inflict  a  severer  method  upon 
his  captive,  and,  side  by  side,  they  trailed  along 
through  the  darkness.  For  a  while  they  puffed  in 
silence,  Burke  the  while  casting  an  occasional  glance 
of  gratefulness  toward  the  man  beside  him. 

"  This  is  the  bulliest  smoke  I  ever  had  ..." 


n8  THE  CATSPAW 

he  began,  and  then  suddenly  stopped,  released  his 
grip  upon  his  captive,  and  Burke,  the  astute  po- 
lice officer,  one  of  the  shining  lights  of  the  force, 
slumped  heavily  down  upon  the  sidewalk,  and  fell 
heavily  asleep. 

St.  John  smiled,  retraced  his  steps  to  the  pri- 
vate bank,  and  pushed  open  the  door. 

"  Two  of  a  kind,"  he  whispered  softly  to  him- 
self, with  considerable  inward  satisfaction,  for 
there,  half-sprawled  across  the  desk  in  a  corner 
of  a  room,  lay  Officer  O'Connell,  sleeping  the  sleep 
of  the  just. 

It  was  half-past  three  that  morning  when  a  man 
wearing  a  long  coat  and  an  opera-hat  returned  to 
the  Elberon  and  noiselessly  ascended  to  his  room 
— a  suite  on  the  second  floor. 

His  light  was  burning  just  as  he  had  left  it. 
Outside  it  was  raining  still.  He  was  wet.  Re- 
moving his  hat,  he  hung  that  and  his  coat  upon 
a  chair  to  drain  and  dry.  He  then  took  off  his 
dress  coat,  lit  a  cigar,  and  sat  down  in  an  easy 
chair — or  rather  threw  himself  upon  it. 

"  Jove,  but  I'm  tired !  "  he  exclaimed  wearily. 

There  was  a  slight  noise,  and  he  started  and 


A  PECULIAR  COMBINATION     119 

peered  into  another  room.  Somewhere  in  the  dark 
a  door  opened  and  a  man's  voice  spoke  :- 

"It's  you,  is  it?" 

"  Oh,"  replied  the  man  in  the  easy-chair,  "  I 
didn't  know  that  you  would  be  here." 

He  sank  back  with  an  air  of  relief. 

"  I  thought  it  best,"  returned  the  voice,  "  at 
least  to-night.  It  was  so  wet.  You  have  been  at 
the  club?" 

"  At  the  club,"  assented  the  man  in  the  easy- 
chair,  "  all  night  and  half  the  morning." 

The  man  in  the  dark  laughed  in  an  odd  sort 
of  way. 

"  Good !  "  he  responded.    "  Who  was  there  ?  " 

The  man  in  the  light  half-groaned,  half-sighed 
with  weariness.  He  was  tired. 

44  I'll  tell  you  to-morrow  morning  all  about  it. 
I'm  too  tired  now,"  he  replied,  rising  and  turning 
the  stem  of  the  incandescent  lamp. 

Then  he,  too,  became  a  man  in  the  dark;  the 
voices  were  stilled;  and  the  day  began  to  break. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  PLAYING  POKER 

IT  was  No.  46  on  the  Oyer  and  Terminer  calen- 
dar— the  State,  etc.,  versus  H.  Kittredge  St.  John. 

The  charge  was  breaking  and  entering  and  the 
robbery  of  sixty-odd  thousand  dollars  from  the 
vaults  of  the  private  bank  of  C.  W.  Mordaunt 
&Co. 

H.  Kittredge  St.  John,  the  defendant,  was  a 
society  man,  a  club  man,  and  generally  a  well- 
known  and  popular  man-about-town,  and  his  ar- 
rest was  considered  more  or  less  preposterous.  In 
fact,  the  newspapers  had  heaped  no  end  of  abuse 
and  calumny  upon  the  police  department  and  its 
officers;  everybody,  including  Kittredge  St.  John, 
considering  the  affair  in  the  light  of  a  huge  joke. 

H.  Kittredge  St.  John  was  not  a  stranger  in  the 
place.  True,  he  had  lived  there  but  a  short  time, 
but  he  had  come  to  town  loaded  with  the  best 
of  recommendations  and  letters  of  introduction 
from  large  Eastern  cities ;  moreover,  he  had  made 
his  advent  with  his  pockets,  so  to  speak,  full  of 


1 20 


ADVANTAGES  OF  PLAYING  POKER  121 

money.  A  gentleman  of  leisure,  single  and  attract- 
ive, he  became  a  social  lion,  his  popularity  being 
not  only  with  the  men  but  likewise  with  the  women. 

At  first,  St.  John  had  held  himself  aloof,  mak- 
ing no  attempt  whatsoever  to  force  himself  into 
any  circle,  with  the  result  that,  within  a  short 
period  of  time,  he  was  being  sought  after  by  the 
most  exclusive  people  in  the  town. 

He  paid  his  bills  and  rarely  asked  for  credit. 
When  he  did  so,  it  was  purely  as  a  matter  of  busi- 
ness, and  he  always  settled  on  the  due  date,  never 
earlier  or  later. 

Many  a  mother  with  marriageable  daughters 
had  courted  St.  John  with  assiduity  and  perse- 
verance, for  they  recognised  in  him  a  bon  parti; 
but  without  success:  for  St.  John  avoided  en- 
tangling alliances  of  any  kind — at  least,  he  had 
done  so  thus  far. 

To  all  men  he  was  the  same  courtly  gentle- 
man; and  whatever  of  mystery  had  attended  his 
advent  was  dispelled  as  time  went  on;  and  now 
Kittredge  St.  John  was  a  much  better  known  man 
than  many  an  old-time  resident  of  the  place.  It 
was  small  wonder,  therefore,  that  the  town  pooh- 
poohed  the  charge  upon  which  he  was  being  tried. 


122  THE  CATSPAW 

The  courtroom  was  overcrowded  with  the 
beauty  and  the  chivalry,  the  wealth  and  the  aris- 
tocracy of  the  place. 

Kittredge,  his  counsel  next  to  him,  sat  at  one 
of  the  tables  inside  of  the  railing,  facing  the  jury, 
but,  as  he  did  so,  he  kept  his  eyes  roving  back 
and  forth  among  the  crowd  until  the  trial  began, 
apparently  seeking  some  familiar  face  in  the  audi- 
ence; and,  having  found  it,  he  contented  himself 
with  merely  raising  his  eyebrows  significantly.  If, 
however,  at  these  times,  he  was  seeking  the  face 
of  Miss  Dorothy  Paget,  he  was  disappointed.  She 
was  not  there,  nor,  in  fact,  were  many  of  the  more 
exclusive  set. 

Burke — a  plain-clothes  man — was  the  first  wit- 
ness to  be  called;  he  had  just  been  sworn. 

The  prosecutor  leaned  against  the  railing  in  an 
easy,  careless  manner.  Burke  looked  first  at  the 
jury  and  then  at  the  prosecutor. 

"  Shall  I  tell  my  story,  sir?  "  he  said. 

'Yes,  Burke,  tell  your  story,"  assented  the 
other. 

The  witness  turned  to  the  jury  and  began : — 
"  It  was  on  the  23d  of  last  month — I  was  or- 
dered downtown  on  special  duty.     It  don't  make 


ADVANTAGES  OF  PLAYING  POKER  123 

no  difference  where  I  was — it  was  the  night  o'  that 
Anarchist  row  in  the  hall  up  there.  I  got  through 
at  ten  minutes  after  one.  It  was  a  bad  night — 
buckets  full  of  rain  an'  a  hurricane  to  back  it  up. 
It  was  fierce!  An'  dark  as  pitch,  too — half  the 
lights  were  out.  I  had  to  walk  from  Man- 
ning's Hall  up  there,  'way  'cross  the  town, 
an'  I  had  to  get  back  to  headquarters  an' 
report." 

"  Well,  now,  Burke,"  interrupted  the  District- 
Attorney,  "  tell  us  just  what  happened,  and  talk  a 
bit  more  slowly." 

Burke  nodded;  he  continued: — 

"  Well,  I'd  reached  about  Monroe  an'  Lafa- 
yette streets,  when  I  heard  the  sound  of  a  night- 
stick somewheres  in  the  vicinity.  I  knew  by  the 
sound  that  it  was  a  roundsman,  an'  I  stopped  to 
locate  it.  Immediately  I  set  out  on  a  dead  run  for 
the  place.  About  two  blocks  away  I  run  into  Offi- 
cer O'Connell — he  wasn't  rappin'  then,  of  course, 
'cause  I  suppose  he'd  heard  me  comin'.  I  knew 
somethin'  was  up,  for  he  was  long  past  due  at  that 
place  at  that  time  ..." 

"Is  he  here?"  interrupted  the  District- 
Attorney. 


i24  THE  CATSPAW 

"  He  is,  sir,"  continued  the  witness;  "  there  he 
sits,  sir.  Well,  O'Connell,  he  says  to  me  .  .  . " 

The  counsel  for  the  defence  sprang  to  his  feet 
and  interposed  with: — 

"Never  mind  what  O'Connell  said." 

The  witness  snorted  and  began  again. 

"  In  consequence  of  a  conversation  I  had  with 
O'Connell  at  that  corner  ..." 

"Now,  at  what  corner?"  demanded  the  pris- 
oner's counsel  impatiently. 

"  The  corner  o'  Washington  an'  Monroe,"  re- 
turned the  witness.  "  If  you'll  give  me  time  I'll 
tell  you  all  there  is  to  tell.  At  the  corner  o'  Wash- 
ington an'  Monroe  me  an'  O'Connell  had  a  con- 
versation, an'  in  consequence  o'  that  I  went  with 
him  to  the  next  corner — Washington  Avenue  and 
First  Street.  That's  what  I  did,  sir." 

"Well,  what  did  you  find  there?"  asked  the 
District-Attorney.  "Go  on." 

"  I  found  on  the  southwest  corner  the  Mor- 
daunt  Bank,  sir.  An'  O'Connell  told  me  .  .  ." 

The  prisoner's  counsel  again  jumped  to  his  feet. 

"  What  did  you  do,  Burke?  "  inquired  the  Dis- 
trict-Attorney. "  Tell  us  what  you  did." 

"  Well,  replied  Burke  uncertainly,   "  I   didn't 


ADVANTAGES  OF  PLAYING  POKER  125 

do  nothin'  just  then.  I  went  up  on  the  stoop  and 
looked  through  the  little  hole  in  the  outside  doors, 
an'  I  did  not  see  but  that  everything  looked  all 
right,  an'  I  told  O'Connell — that  is  to  say,  sir," 
he  corrected  hastily,  "  I  stayed  there  with  O'Con- 
nell for  a  time — about  ten  minutes,  I  should  say. 
An'  here's  where  the  queer  thing  happened,  gentle- 
men. Me  an'  O'Connell,"  he  went  on,  warming 
up  now  that  he  had  reached  the  interesting  stage, 
"  was  just  startin'  in  to  reconnoitre  when  we  heard 
a  big  racket  at  the  front  door — it's  on  the  corner, 
eater-cornered  like.  It  was  the  vestibule  inside 
door  he  tackled  first,  o'  course,  'n'  we  heard  some 
bolts  shoot  back;  'n'  then,  all  of  a  sudden,  some- 
thing snaps  very  quick  an'  loud,  an'  the  big  iron 
doors  opens  out  and  a  fellow  comes  down  the 
front  steps.  He  didn't  come  down  right  away, 
either,  for  he  saw  us  there.  We  feazed  him  a  bit, 
I  guess  1 

"  As  I  said,  it  was  dark  an'  rainin'  pitch-forks, 
but  we  could  see  this  fellow  come  down  all  right, 
me  an'  O'Connell,  an'  we  both  snapped  our  lan- 
terns on  him  at  the  same  time;  so  we  had  him  in 
a  light  that  was  double  strength.  The  fellow  had 
on  a  high  hat — one  o'  them  dull-lookin'  things,  not 


126  THE  CATSPAW 

a  regular  stove-pipe — an'  full  dress — we  could  see 
just  a  bit  o'  his  shirt — an'  a  long  overcoat.  Them's 
the  first  things  we  noticed;  an',  if  he  hadn't  turned 
around  when  the  light  flashed  on  him,  we'd  a 
nabbed  him  then  an'  there ;  but  he  did  turn  around 
an'  looked  at  us — an'  you  could  a  knocked  us  both 
down  with  a  feather,  me  an'  O'Connell,  for  we 
knew  the  man  well,  both  of  us  did. 

"  Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  while  we 
were  both  standin'  there,  pretty  near  paralysed 
an'  both  of  us  with  guns,  the  fellow  turned  an' 
made  for  it,  an'  us  after  him,  me  an'  O'Connell. 
We'd  a  caught  him  all  right  but  for  its  bein'  such 
a  night — but  it  was  so  dark  and  windy  we  couldn't 
track  him  by  sight  or  by  sound,  so  finally  we  lost 
him  an'  gave  it  up  for  good. 

"  We  came  back  to  the  bank,  an'  I  stayed  there 
while  O'Connell  went  for  young  Mr.  Mordaunt, 
an'  he  dressed  himself  an'  come,  an'  we  found  that 
everything  had  been  smashed  open  an'  sixty  thou- 
sand odd  dollars  an'  cents  was  gone  clean." 

"Did  you  find  anything  else?"  questioned  the 
prosecutor. 

"Not  that  night,"  responded  Burke;  "but  the 
next  day  we  found  that  one  o'  the  side  windows 


ADVANTAGES  OF  PLAYING  POKER  127 

had  been  entered :  the  bars  were  sawed  clean  apart 
an'  stuck  together  again  with  some  kind  o'  stuff; 
an'  the  window-pane  had  been  cut  an'  forced,  an' 
the  piece  that  he'd  cut  out  he'd  pasted  on  again. 
That's  the  reason  we  didn't  find  it  that  night.  It 
was  done  too  clever." 

"And  did  you  recognise  the  man?"  inquired 
the  District-Attorney. 

"  I  did,  sir,"  answered  the  witness;  "  an'  so  did 
O'Connell.  We  both  knew  him  ..." 

The  District-Attorney  visibly  trembled  with  ex- 
citement. He  asked: — 

"Who  was  it,  Burke?" 

Burke  bent  his  gaze  upon  the  man  at  the  next 
table,  pointing  with  his  finger  as  he  spoke : — 

"  It  was  Kittredge  St.  John,  the  man  that  sits 
at  that  table,  sir." 

There  was  an  audible  murmur  in  the  court-room, 
which  had  been  as  still  as  death. 

"  The  prisoner?  "  continued  the  prosecutor. 

"The  prisoner,  yes,  sir,"  assented  Burke.  "I 
knew  him  well  by  sight,  sir,"  he  added.  "  It's  the 
same  man — I  can  swear  to  that." 

"  Cross-examine,"  said  the  State's  Attorney 
briefly. 


128  THE  CATSPAW 

The  counsel  for  the  defence  rose  with  a  smile 
upon  his  face. 

"  Mr.  Burke,"  he  began  in  a  suave  voice,  "  you 
have  seen  Mr.  St.  John  since  that  night ;  have  you 
not?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Burke. 

"  You  know  where  he  lives?  " 

"  I  didn't  then,"  replied  Burke;  "  we  can't  keep 
track  o'  everybody  from  headquarters,  but  I  do 
now.  He  lives  at  the  Elberon." 

"  And  you  attended  there  next  day,  did  you  not, 
for  the  purpose  of  apprehending  him?  " 

"I  did,  sir." 

"  And  at  that  time  is  it  not  a  fact  that  you 
made  a  careful  search  of  his  apartments  in  the 
Elberon  for  the  purpose  of  finding  something  to 
connect  him  with  the  crime?" 

"  It  is,  sir." 

"  And  did  you  find  anything  calculated  to  arouse 
suspicion?"  went  on  the  prisoner's  counsel. 

"  I  did  not,  sir,"  replied  Burke. 

11  That's  all,"  announced  the  counsel  for  the 
defence. 

"Wait  a  minute!  "  exclaimed  the  judge  as  the 
witness  started  to  leave  the  witness-stand. 


ADVANTAGES  OF  PLAYING  POKER  129 

"  Burke,  are  you  sure  of  what  you  say?  Isn't  it 
possible  that  you  may  have  been  mistaken?  This 
is  a  serious  matter,  officer — you  must  be  very  care- 
ful. You're  sure  this  is  the  man  ?  " 

"  Your  Honour,"  returned  Burke  doggedly, 
"  my  record  shows  that  I'm  a  careful  man — your 
Honour  knows  I  am.  An'  I  say  in  this  thing  I 
can't  be  mistaken.  I  was  never  surer  of  a  thing 
in  all  my  life,  an'  I  swear  that  the  man  who  sits 
there,  Kittredge  St.  John,  is  the  man  that  robbed 
the  bank  that  night,  so  help  me  God!  " 

"One  moment,"  put  in  the  prisoner's  counsel; 
"  what  day  of  the  week  was  that,  did  you  say?  " 

"  I  didn't  say,  sir,  but  it  was  two  o'clock  on 
Wednesday  morning,  the  23d  o'  last  month. 
Roundsman  O'Connell,"  continued  the  witness, 
turning  to  the  judge,  "  will  tell  you  just  the  same 
as  I  have,  your  Honour." 

Burke  stepped  down. 

O'Connell  took  the  witness-stand  and  gave  his 
testimony  and  left  it.  Burke  stood  corroborated 
in  each  detail.  There  was  no  cross-examination  of 
this  witness. 

"  The  prosecution  rests,"  announced  the  coun- 
sel for  the  state. 


i3o  THE  CATSPAW 

The  prisoner's  attorney  now  rose.  A  flickering 
ghost  of  a  smile  played  around  the  corner  of  his 
mouth.  He  departed  from  the  usual  rule,  making 
no  opening  statement  to  the  jury. 

"I'll  call  the  sheriff  of  the  county,"  he  an- 
nounced. 

The  sheriff — a  stout,  good-natured-looking  man, 
with  a  broad,  genial,  honest  face — had  been 
seated  quietly  in  the  body  of  the  courtroom  out- 
side the  railing,  an  unnoticed  spectator.  He  rose, 
and,  with  some  difficulty,  made  his  way  through 
the  crowd,  nodding  as  he  went  to  the  judge,  the 
counsel,  and  some  of  the  jurymen.  He  did  not 
look  at  St.  John,  nor  did  St.  John  look  at  him. 

He  took  the  stand  and  was  sworn,  and  then,  set- 
tling himself  comfortably  in  the  chair,  threw  one 
leg  over  the  other,  and  waited  for  the  question. 

"  Sheriff,"  began  the  counsel  for  the  defence 
carelessly,  "  would  you  mind  stating  to  the  jury 
just  where  you  were  at  two  o'clock  Wednesday 
morning  on  the  23d  ultimo?  " 

The  Sheriff  looked  around  and  smiled. 

"  On  Monday  night,  on  Tuesday  night,  and  on 
Wednesday  night,  the  2ist,  22d,  and  23d  of  last 
month,"  he  replied  deliberately  and  with  an  evi- 


Kittredge  St.  John 


ADVANTAGES  OF  PLAYING  POKER  131 

dent  relish  of  the  situation,  "  I  was  in  the  card- 
room  of  the  Iroquois  Club  on  each  night  from  ten 
o'clock  in  the  evening  until  after  three  o'clock  the 
next  morning." 

"  When  you  say  Wednesday  night,  do  you  mean 
night  or  morning?  " 

"  I'll  explain  that,"  said  the  sheriff.  "  When 
I  say  Monday  night,  I  mean  that  I  began  Monday 
night  at  ten  and  ended  Tuesday  morning  at  three; 
on  Tuesday  night  I  began  at  ten  and  ended 
Wednesday  morning  at  three,  and  so  on.  I  was 
there  three  nights  and  mornings,  beginning  with 
Monday  night." 

"  Will  you  state  just  what  you  were  doing?  " 

"  Certainly,"  responded  the  witness.  "  We  were 
playing  poker — disposing  of  some  old  scores  that 
we  had  waited  for  several  weeks  to  pay  off." 

"Was  anybody  with  you?  If  so,  state  to  the 
jury  just  who  it  was." 

"  Yes,"  returned  the  sheriff,  leaning  forward  in 
his  turn,  as  all  witnesses  have  a  way  of  doing; 
"  there  were  three  people  with  me,  making  four 
altogether;  three  of  us  played  each  night,  and  the 
fourth  man  looked  on  and  kept  us  company." 

"  And  these  four  . 


i32  THE  CATSPAW 

"  These  four,"  continued  the  sheriff,  "  were  my- 
self and  John  R.  Montgomery  and  H.  Kittredge 
St.  John,  the  prisoner  at  the  bar." 

"John  R.  Montgomery  is  here?" 

"  He's  here,"  assented  the  witness. 

"  And  the  fourth  man — who  was  he?  "  inquired 
the  attorney. 

The  sheriff  was  plainly  embarrassed,  but  he 
nerved  himself,  nevertheless,  for  the  ordeal. 

"  The  fourth  man,"  he  began,  looking  nerv- 
ously around,  "  the  fourth  man  was  the — the  judge 
presiding  at  this  trial." 

There  was  a  prolonged  titter  in  the  courtroom 
at  the  judge's  expense.  The  judge  rapped  for  or- 
der, but,  at  the  same  time,  nodded  in  a  dignified 
way  in  confirmation  of  the  testimony. 

"Was  the  prisoner  there  on  each  occasion?" 
resumed  the  counsel. 

"  He  was." 
I     "Every  night?" 

"  Every  night,"  replied  the  sheriff.  "  He  was 
the  first  man  on  hand,  and  the  last  man  to  leave. 
He  was  with  us  all  the  time." 

"  How  far  is  the  Iroquois  Club  from  the  Mor- 
daunt  Bank?" 


ADVANTAGES  OF  PLAYING  POKER  133 

"  A  good  three  miles,  I  should  say,"  replied 
the  sheriff." 

"  Take  the  witness,"  concluded  the  counsel  for 
the  defence,  settling  back  in  his  seat,  satisfaction 
written  all  over  his  face. 

The  District-Attorney  rose  with  a  frown. 
There  was  a  loud  buzz  of  conversation  in  the 
courtroom,  which  his  Honour  stopped  with  a 
few  raps  of  his  gavel  upon  the  desk.  The 
District-Attorney  was  plainly  nonplussed,  and 
he  showed  it. 

"  Sheriff,"  inquired  he,  looking  that  individual 
squarely  in  the  eye,  "  how  do  you  fix  the  night  of 
the  22d  or  the  morning  of  the  23d?  By  the 
way,  which  was  it?  " 

"  Both,"  replied  the  sheriff  laconically. 

"  Well,  how  do  you  fix  it,  then?  Why  do  you 
remember  it  ?  " 

The  sheriff  returned  the  District-Attorney's 
stare  with  interest. 

"  I'll  tell  you  how  I  fix  it,"  said  the  sheriff, 
shaking  his  finger  at  the  examiner.  "  I  could  fix 
it  anyway  by  other  things,  but  I  know  by  one  thing 
in  particular.  When  I  got  there  that  night  there 
were  two  men  ahead  of  me:  one  of  'em  was  St. 


i34  THE  CATSPAW 

John;  the  other  Montgomery.  It  was  a  few  min- 
utes after  ten  when  we  started  in,  because  they  said 
I  was  late,  and  I  said  I  wasn't;  but  it  was  after- 
ward proven  that  my  watch  was  about  ten  min- 
utes slow. 

"Now  we  started  in  to  play,  understand;  and 
when  you're  playing  poker  at  the  Iroquois  time 
flies  like  the  dickens.  We've  "got  a  ticker-tape  up 
there  in  the  card-room,  and  it  runs  all  night  as  well 
as  all  day.  The  telegraph  people  here  run  it. 
Well,  the  news  of  this  very  robbery  came  over 
the  ticker  while  we  were  sitting  there — Kittredge 
and  the  rest  of  us — about  half-past  two  in  the 
morning.  Kittredge  sat  next  to  me,  and  I  said  to 
him  when  the  news  came  over  the  wire :  '  Kitt- 
redge,' said  I,  '  Mordaunt's  safe  has  been  cracked 
and  there's  a  pile  of  money  gone.'  And,  then  and 
there,  I  called  up  headquarters  and  we  found  out 
all  about  it.  That's  how  it  was — and  that's  how  I 
know.  And  his  Honour  can  tell  you  just  what  I 
tell  you,  too. 

"  What  is  more,"  concluded  the  sheriff  officially 
and  for  the  benefit  of  the  reporters  who  were  tak- 
ing down  his  testimony,  "  I  want  to  tell  you,  coun- 
sellor, that  the  county  detectives  would  never  have 


ADVANTAGES  OF  PLAYING  POKER  135 

made  a  bull  like  this  either,  and  don't  you  forget 
it — never  in  God's  world." 

The  sheriff  stepped  down,  and  John  R.  Mont- 
gomery stepped  up.  His  testimony  was  identical 
in  substance  with  that  of  the  sheriff.  It  was  the 
purpose  of  the  prisoner's  counsel  to  call  the  pris- 
oner, but,  just  as  he  was  about  to  do  so,  the  pris- 
oner plucked  him  by  the  sleeve. 

After  a  short  conference,  the  attorney  for  the 
defence  announced  that  the  defence  closed  its  case. 

The  judge's  charge  was  short  and  formal  in  the 
extreme.  At  the  close  of  it  the  jury,  although  in- 
vited to  retire,  declined  to  do  so,  and,  without 
stepping  from  the  jury-box,  returned  a  verdict  of 
"  Not  Guilty." 

The  crowd  lined  up  close  to  St.  John,  shower- 
ing upon  him  congratulations,  even  insisting  upon 
shaking  him  by  the  hand;  but  all  the  while  St. 
John's  eye  was  fixed  wistfully  upon  the  exit;  for 
some  reason  he  was  anxious  to  get  away.  Thank- 
ing his  counsel  briefly,  together  with  his  witnesses, 
he  then  hurriedly  made  his  way  through  the  court- 
room and  finally  reached  the  open  air.  But  there 
still  clung  to  him  a  little  bevy  of  men  and  women — 
friends  and  acquaintances,  who  had  been  in  the 


136  THE  CATSPAW 

courtroom.  Suddenly  his  gaze  wandered  down  the 
street. 

"  There — there  is  somebody  I  want  to  see !  " 
he  exclaimed;  but  it  was  merely  an  excuse  to  get 
away.  Presently  he  met  Officer  O'Connell  and 
Burke  the  plain-clothes  man,  upon  whom  he 
smiled  in  a  way  that  was  almost  childlike  and 
bland.  They  returned  his  salutation  with  curt 
nods  of  the  head. 

"  Well,  Jim,"  said  O'Connell  to  Burke,  as  St. 
John  left  them  far  in  the  rear,  "  what  d'ye  make 
of  it,  anyway?  " 

"  Billy,"  returned  Burke  solemnly,  "  I  don't 
know  what  to  make  of  it.  The  only  solution  I've 
arrived  at  is  that  the  devil  must  have  been  stringin' 
us  that  night." 

O'Connell  shook  his  head.  "  Well,  no  more  of 
them  Iroquois  Club  cigars  for  me,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  X 

SHADOWED 

ALL  the  way  down  the  street  St.  John  continued 
to  meet  his  over-enthusiastic  friends ;  but,  by  means 
of  one  pretext  and  another,  he  succeeded  in  eluding 
them.  Finally,  arriving  at  the  Elberon,  his  bach- 
elor-apartment home,  he  stood  glancing  hastily  up 
and  down  the  street  to  make  sure  that  no  one  saw 
him,  then  quickly  unlocking  the  door  he  stepped 
inside,  and  noiselessly  ascended  to  the  second-floor 
apartment. 

"  Nobody  here,"  he  remarked  with  a  sigh  of 
relief,  as  he  passed  hastily  through  room  after 
room;  and  immediately  seating  himself  at  a  desk, 
began  to  write,  as  follows: 

MY  DEAR  Miss  PAGET: — 

It  seems  better  to  address  you  so  for  the  present.  There 
are  certain  things  to  which  I  prefer  to  refer  by  letter  alone. 

You  will  recall  that  I  wrote  you  on  the  24th  of  last  month, 
requesting  you  to  make  no  reference,  in  my  presence  or  to 
me,  to  anything  which  might  have  happened.  That  request 
was  not  prompted  by  any  desire  to  be  spared  humiliation — 
it  was  a  part  of  the  peculiar  circumstances  which  have  con- 
stituted a  part  of  my  present  life. 

137 


i38  THE  CATSPAW 

Now  that  I  have  been  vindicated  in  your  eyes  and  in  the 
eyes  of  the  world,  I  ask  you  to  make  to  me  no  reference  to 
to-day's  happenings,  nor  to  such  vindication,  nor,  indeed,  to 
this  letter  or  the  other. 

I  have  many  good  reasons  for  making  this  request,  which 
will  appear  later.  I  close  with  the  expression  of  much 
regard. 

Sincerely, 

H.  KlTTREDGE   St.  JOHN. 

UA  bit  formal,  perhaps,"  continued  St.  John, 
"  but  certainly  imperative.  This  complication  with 
Miss  Paget  was  certainly  unlocked  for,  and 
yet  " — he  smiled  to  himself — "  not  altogether  un- 
fortunate for  me.  I  don't  know,  after  all,  but 
what  it  is  a  good  thing — a  very  good  thing." 

He  enclosed  the  missive  in  an  envelope,  ad- 
dressed the  latter,  and  sealed  it  carefully  with  wax, 
upon  which  he  impressed  the  seal  ring  which  he 
wore. 

"There's  plenty  of  time,"  he  said,  looking  at 
his  watch;  "  I'll  send  this  up  by  messenger." 

Rising  from  his  desk,  he  drew  upon  his  head  a 
soft,  felt  hat,  which  partly  covered  his  face,  and 
stole  downstairs  again. 

The  street  was  deserted  almost,  but  not  quite, 
for  at  each  end  of  the  block  lounged  one  man, 


SHADOWED  139 

intent,  apparently,  upon  the  Elberon,  but  in  real- 
ity intent  on  Kittredge  St.  John. 

11  Great  Scott  1  "  muttered  St.  John  to  himself. 
"  So  soon  again?  " 

He  retraced  his  steps  and  re-entered  the  hall; 
and,  passing  through  to  the  rear  of  the  apartment- 
house,  made  his  exit  through  an  alleyway.  Once 
clear  of  the  place,  he  hastened  toward  the  centre 
of  the  town  and  handed  his  message  in  at  a  local 
delivery  office  with  instruction  to  send  it  out  at 
once. 

Meanwhile,  one  of  the  two  men  who  had  stood 
outside  sauntered  up  and  accosted  the  other. 

"  Did  you  see  him,  Jim,  when  he  stuck  his  head 
outside?" 

"  He  won't  come  out  now  till  dark,"  was  the 
answer.  "  You  see  if  he  does." 

"  Well,"  returned  the  first  man,  "  he  saw  us  all 
right,  though  he  can't  be  sure  just  who  we  are, 
since  we're  togged  out  in  this  way.  We  might 
just  as  well  stick  together  now  for  a  while,  any- 
way." 

Whereupon  the  other  handed  him  a  cigar,  which 
they  both  proceeded  to  light,  gradually  falling 
into  deep  conversation. 


i4o  THE  CATSPAW 

"  Gee ! "  suddenly  exclaimed  Burke,  grasping 
his  companion  by  the  arm.  "  He's  given  us  the 
slip  after  all." 

"  Went  out  the  back  way,  I  suppose,  an'  now 
he's  coming  back  as  bold  as  brass,"  remarked  the 
other. 

A  moment  more  and  the  object  of  their  remarks 
disappeared  within  the  house.  He  looked  neither 
to  the  right  nor  to  the  left.  Most  certainly  he  did 
not  see  the  plain-clothes  men,  or,  if  he  did,  he  gave 
no  sign. 

It  was  now  fairly  late  in  the  afternoon.  Burke 
ordered  his  assistant  to  go  around  the  corner  and 
'phone  headquarters  to  send  another  man,  ending 
with : — 

"  We  got  this  fellow  now  where  we  want  him, 
an'  it's  a  blame  good  thing  he  forgot  somethin' 
and  had  to  come  back.  We'll  camp  on  his  trail; 
we'll  follow  him  no  matter  where  he  goes. 
Stumpy,  let  me  tell  you,"  he  went  on.  "  I  told  it 
in  court,  an'  I  say  that  there  man  is  the  man  who 
robbed  that  bank,  an',  by  George,  I'm  goin'  to 
keep  him  in  sight  if  it  takes  the  whole  force  to 
do  it!" 

The  other  man  came  up  from  headquarters. 


SHADOWED  141 

"  Say,  Burke,"  he  explained,  "  I  saw  your  man 
downtown.  What're  you  doin'  up  here?  " 

"  I  know  you  did,"  replied  Burke,  "  an'  he  came 
back,  an'  he's  in  the  Elberon  over  there,  an'  don't 
you  forgit  it." 

The  other  glanced  at  him  doubtfully. 

"  Oh,  that's  it,  is  it !  "  he  returned.  "  I  know 
I  saw  him  and  wondered  at  the  time  where  you 
were." 

Burke  and  the  two  men  vanished  into  thin  air. 
Once  more  the  street  became  deserted.  Dusk  had 
come  on;  it  was  growing  darker  every  moment. 
At  a  quarter  to  eight,  however,  a  man,  clad  in 
evening  clothes  and  a  light  overcoat  emerged  from 
the  apartment-house  and  sauntered  down  the  street. 
In  front  of  a  house  with  an  English  basement 
stood  an  electric  street-lamp.  He  passed  this,  and 
the  light  shone  full  on  his  face.  Reaching  the  cor- 
ner, he  glanced  up  and  down  and  behind  him  for 
an  instant,  and  then,  breaking  into  a  fast  walk, 
made  for  the  west  end  of  the  town. 

He  had  no  sooner  done  so  than  a  man  emerged 
from  the  basement,  another  from  an  alleyway 
across  the  street,  and  a  third  from  a  recess  around 
the  corner. 


i42  THE  CATSPAW 

Without  the  slightest  recognition  of  each  other, 
they  turned  in  and  followed  the  man  in  the  light 
overcoat,  each  man  in  his  own  way. 

Down  at  headquarters,  a  few  hours  earlier  that 
afternoon,  the  sergeant  called  to  a  special  officer; 
the  officer  hurried  in. 

"  Say,  Flynn,"  he  remarked,  with  a  jerk  of  the 
head  toward  the  window,  "  look  at  that  man. 
There's  the  man  the  banks  want  us  to  keep  tab 
on.  See  him  ?  That  fellow  with  the  slouch  hat — 
that's  the  chap.  Burke  is  after  him,  but  there  is 
no  sign  of  Burke  around.  He's  slipped  a  cog 
somehow.  S'pose  you  turn  in  and  follow  the  fel- 
low. The  banks  are  standing  behind  us,  and 
they're  paying  good  money  to  keep  track  of  this 
man.  It  ain't  our  business  to  lose  him.  S'pose 
you  reckon  him  up  a  bit." 

The  officer  nodded  and  started  off.  He  kept  his 
man  in  sight.  It  was  difficult  work,  not  only  be- 
cause his  man  was  a  rapid  walker  and  swerved  in 
and  out  of  devious  thoroughfares  with  rapidity, 
but  also  because  he  kept  constantly  looking  around 
behind  him. 

St.  John  knew  that  he  was  being  followed,  and, 
though  he  was  the  shadowed,  he  also  was  the 


SHADOWED  143 

shadower.  The  afternoon  passed  and  evening 
came,  but  still  on  and  on  he  walked,  keeping  his 
eye  the  while  on  his  pursuer  quite  as  faithfully 
as  did  the  officer  keep  track  of  him. 

Suddenly  St.  John  turned  swiftly  down  a  dark, 
narrow  street,  and  when  his  pursuer  reached  the 
corner,  St.  John  had  disappeared. 

After  a  fruitless  search  of  some  ten  minutes, 
the  special  suddenly  felt  some  one  touch  him  on 
the  back  of  his  hand;  in  an  instant  he  recognised 
the  touch,  and  followed  the  other  to  a  dark  recess. 

"  Well,  Burke,"  he  remarked,  "  what're  you 
doin'  here?  I  been  followin'  your  man  all  the 
evenin',  an',  by  George,  I  just  lost  him  I " 

"What  man?"  demanded  Burke. 

"  St.  John,  of  course,"  returned  the  other. 

"  So,  they've  put  you  on  the  job,  too?  Well, 
with  the  crowd  we've  got,  there  ain't  much  that  he 
can  do  without  our  seein'  him.  Only  we've  got 
considerable  of  a  wait  before  us  before  he  comes 
out." 

"  Comes  out  where  ?  " 

"  Why,  he's  making  a  visit  in  that  brownstone 
front  down  there — No.  219,  the  one  with  the 
grounds  at  the  side.  Thought  you  knew  that." 


I44  THE  CATSPAW 

"  Knew  it !  Why,  I  just  had  him  in  tow  ten 
minutes  ago  an'  lost  him.  So  that's  where  he 
is,  is  it?" 

"  Sure,"  replied  Burke.  "  He's  been  there  an 
hour  already.  It's  about  time  he  left,  I'm 
thinkin'." 

The  other  man  started. 

"  What  you  givin'  us?  I  saw  him  on  this  here 
street  not  fifteen  minutes  ago.  Or  else,"  he  went 
on  with  a  smile,  "  or  else  you  lost  him,  too.  Come 
on — own  up.  Aren't  you  givin'  me  a  bit  of  a 
stiff?" 

"  Stiff,  nothin' !  "  retorted  Burke.  "  I  tell  you 
he's  in  there  all  right,  all  right.  I  got  a  couple  o' 
men  there  watchin'  the  place.  When  he  comes  out 
they'll  give  me  a  flash  of  light.  He's  in  there 
all  right." 

"  Look  here,  Burke,"  went  on  the  other,  "  I  tell 
you  he  ain't.  I  tell  you  I  saw  him  go  around  the 
corner.  I  know  what  I'm  talkin'  about. 

Burke  looked  at  the  special  long  and  earnestly. 
Finally  he  had  to  admit  that  it  was  possible  that 
the  man  had  again  given  them  the  slip. 

An  hour  later,  Kittredge  St.  John  took  his  de- 


SHADOWED  145 

parture  from  the  Paget  home.  Descending  lightly 
the  steps  to  the  street,  he  looked  carelessly  about 
him  before  starting  leisurely  toward  the  centre  of 
the  town.  As  he  did  so,  four  men  emerged  from 
their  hiding-places  and  followed  him;  but  this 
time  they  never  left  his  heels  until  he  had  disap- 
peared once  more  into  the  front  door  of  the  El- 
beron  apartments. 

And,  when  he  had  done  so,  Burke  and  one  other 
man  sat  down  and  camped  upon  his  trail. 

That  night  the  safe  in  the  wholesale  hardware 
concern  of  Canda  &  Willett  was  cracked,  and 
something  over  $17,000  was  stolen. 


CHAPTER  XI 

INSIDE   INFORMATION 

MR.  BONWIT  glanced  anxiously  toward  his  fiancee, 
her  perturbation,  even  to  his  dull  eye,  being  all  too 
evident. 

"  You  look  worried,  Roxane,"  he  ventured  in 
tones  sounding  the  heights  and  depths  of  his  af- 
fection; "what's  the  matter,  dear?" 

And,  indeed,  well  might  he  have  asked  the  ques- 
tion. For  as  he  continually  pressed  in  his  big 
hand  her  slender  fingers  and  smoothed  her  bare, 
round,  white  fore-arm,  much  as  one  might  stroke 
a  cat,  the  fascinating  Mrs.  Bellairs'  face  wore  any- 
thing but  a  happy  look.  Her  glance  strayed  on, 
past  the  amorous  president  of  the  Manufacturers' 
National,  across  the  intervening  landscape  to  the 
outlines  of  the  Iroquois  Club  down  in  the  centre  of 
the  town,  which  was  barely  visible  from  the  arbour 
of  "  The  Ivies  " — Mrs.  Bellairs'  villa — where  they 
were  sitting,  and  the  next  instant  rested  upon  the 
chimneys  that  topped  a  certain  bachelor  apart- 
ment-house not  far  from  the  club ;  and,  as  her  rest- 

146 


INSIDE  INFORMATION  147 

less  gaze  darted  from  one  to  the  other,  her  lips 
tightened  over  her  white  teeth,  the  pupils  of  her 
eyes  shrunk  suddenly  to  pin  points,  and  her  fingers 
clutched  Bonwit's  with  a  convulsive  grasp. 

At  first  Bonwit  mistook  this  sudden  pressure 
for  a  demonstration  of  affection,  but,  on  looking 
once  more  at  her  face,  he  became  startled  and  re- 
peated, in  alarm: — 

"  What — what's  the  matter,  Roxane?  " 

Roxane  shook  her  head,  but  did  not  answer. 
She  could  not  tell  him  what  troubled  her — reveal 
to  him  that  the  devil  of  doubt  again  had  assailed 
her,  the  little  devil  that  hovered  over  her  night 
and  day  whenever  she  thought  of  Kittredge  St. 
John.  She  was  very  still  for  an  instant,  and  then 
quite  suddenly  she  threw  back  her  head  and  smiled 
gratefully  at  the  man  beside  her. 

"  It's  good  of  you  to  ask,  bon  ami,"  she  replied. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  didn't  quite  catch 
that,"  said  the  banker,  placing  his  hand  behind  his 
ear  from  force  of  habit. 

"  I  said,"  returned  Roxane,  "  that  it  was  good 
of  you  to  ask  ..." 

"  But  you  said  more  than  that,"  persisted  Mr. 
Bonwit. 


i48  THE  CATSPAW 

Roxane  searched  her  memory.  After  a  mo- 
ment, she  answered  as  she  looked  at  him  with  a 
half-smile  on  her  face: — 

"Surely  that's  what  I  said." 
Again  Bonwit  shook  his  head. 

"  But  you  said  something  else,"  he  insisted. 

"  Oh,  then  it  was  bon  ami — was  that  it?  "  she 
asked,  laughing  outright. 

"  Ah — I  see — a  pet  name — I  love  pet  names, 
Roxane.  You'll  call  me  that  always,  won't  you  ?  " 

Roxane  came  as  near  to  a  snicker  as  was  possi- 
ble for  her  to  come. 

"Do  you  think  it  quite  suits  you?"  she  de- 
manded. 

"  Suit  me  or  not,"  he  persisted,  assuming  that 
the  unknown  appellation  held  a  world  of  warmth, 
"  I  like  it.  Say  it  again,  dear,  won't  you  ?  " 

Roxane,  apparently  to  hide  her  blushes,  but  in 
reality  to  conceal  the  mirth  that  convulsed  her, 
turned  away  her  head  and  whispered : — 

"  Bon  ami" 

Mr.  Bonwit  was  almost  beside  himself  with 
sheer  happiness.  A  few  seconds  later,  however, 
he  observed: — 

"  If  any  one  but  yourself  said  it,  perhaps  .  ;.  .." 


INSIDE  INFORMATION  149 

Roxane  suppressed  giggles. 

"  Of  course,"  she  assured  him.  "  But  when  / 
say  it  to  you,  dear,  it's  most  proper — it's  a  case  of 
honi  soil  qui  mal  y  pense — is  it  not  so,  bon  ami?  " 

"  And  would  it  be  proper,  Roxane,  for  me  to 
call  you  by  that  name  ?  "  asked  Bonwit  earnestly. 

Once  more  Roxane  turned  away  her  head,  and, 
with  the  invisible  hand  of  self-control  she  clutched 
her  saving  sense  of  humour. 

"  Decidedly  so,"  she  quickly  informed  him. 

'*  Then,  I'll  call  you  by  that  name  to-morrow," 
he  faltered  after  several  ineffectual  efforts.  "In- 
deed, after  this  we'll  always  call  each  other  by 
that  name,  if  you  don't  mind." 

"  When  we  are  quite  alone,"  acquiesced  Roxane 
with  a  sigh. 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Bonwit  with  an  em- 
phasis that  implied  that  even  though  the  world, 
in  its  prudishness,  might  condemn  them,  yet  he 
and  she  would  always  understand. 

"  But,  Roxane,"  he  proceeded  anxiously,  "  you 
haven't  told  me  what  it  is  that  worries  you,  my 
dear." 

Roxane  shrugged  her  shoulders  prettily. 

"  Why  should  I  worry  you  about  it?  " 


1 50  THE  CATSPAW 

"  Oh,  but  I  insist  upon  knowing  ..." 

She  poured  him  tea,  saying: — 

"  Let  us  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry  while  ..." 
She  broke  off  suddenly  and  handed  him  the  cup; 
but  he  waved  it  aside,  and  asked: — 

"Has  it  anything  to  do  with  me?" 

She  threw  a  glance  of  meaning  across  the  tops 
of  villas  and  down  into  the  heart  of  the  town. 

"  No,  indeed,  it  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with 
you,  my  dear,"  she  told  him,  with  another  shrug 
of  her  shoulders.  "  It's  sordid — merely  business 
— little  business  worries." 

"  Business!  "  he  ejaculated.  "  Then,  of  course, 
I  can  help  you,  if  you'll  tell  me." 

Roxane  smiled. 

"  After  all,  perhaps  you  can.  .  .  .  It's  about 
my  trustee  that  I  worry.  I  believe  him  honest,  and 
yet  ..."  She  drew  forth  from  the  folds  of  her 
dress  a  neat  statement  of  account  and  handed  it  to 
Mr.  Bonwit. 

A  glance  at  the  figures  fairly  took  Mr.  Bonwit's 
breath  away.  He  was  about  to  make  some  remark 
when  she  suddenly  went  on  with : — 

"  It  is  old  Gaspard,  and  he  fails  to  account  for 
the  income  of  a  fifty-thousand-dollar  mortgage — 


INSIDE  INFORMATION  151 

the  income  for  two  whole  years,  you  see.    It's  the 
Croissant  mortgage." 

Bonwit's  business  eyes  continued  to  scan  the 
paper. 

"  But,"  he  protested,  "  he  fails  to  account  for 
the  principal,  also ;  there  is  no  Croissant  mortgage 
here." 

Roxane's  eye  brightened. 

'  That  is  all  right — bon  ami.  You  see,  that 
Croissant  mortgage  is  sold;  I  had  it  sold  some  two 
or  three  months  ago.  I  needed  the  money — but 
what  has  that  to  do  with  the  income?  For  years 
I  have  been  getting  Croissant  income — where  is  it 
now?" 

"  Why,"  laughed  Bonwit,  chuckling  inwardly, 
"  you  say  you  sold  your  mortgage  and  used  the 
money — used  the  principal." 

"  Just  what  Gaspard  says,"  she  replied  in  be- 
wilderment. "  But  what  has  it  to  do  with  income? 
Always  I  should  get  the  same  income,  should  I 
not?" 

Roxane's  eyes  glanced  into  his  with  the  se- 
renity of  a  child — her  perfect  faith  was  his  by 
right. 

"  But,"  he  explained,  "  if  you  use  a  part  of  your 


I52  THE  CATSPAW 

principal,  you  can't  get  income  any  more  on  what 
you  use;  don't  you  see?" 

"Say  that  again,"  she  asked,  her  eyes  trust- 
fully looking  into  his. 

"  If  you  use  up  your  principal,  of  course  your 
income  on  it  is  gone,"  he  repeated  with  a  smile. 

Roxane  was  puzzled. 

"  Just  what  old  Gaspard  says,  and  he  does  not 
do  me  the  justice  to  explain  it.  All  he  utters  in 
answer  to  my  fifteen  or  twenty  polite  letters  on  the 
subject,  is  this  one  epigram :  *  All  women  are  fools.* 
But  you,  bon  ami,  you  will  explain  fully  to  me; 
will  you  not?  My  head — ah,  it  is  no  head  for 
business,  I  am  afraid!  " 

Whereupon  Mr.  Bonwit,  for  the  next  half-hour, 
proceeded  to  explain  to  a  woman,  who  knew  more 
in  one  minute  about  business  than  most  women 
would  know  in  a  lifetime,  just  how  and  why  it 
was  that  when  you  spent  your  principal  your  in- 
come ceased  at  once. 

"  At  last  I  understand !  "  exclaimed  Roxane 
gleefully. 

Bonwit  surrendered  to  her  the  statement  of  ac- 
count, his  eyes  glistening  as  he  gloated  over  the 
millions  that  it  dealt  with.  But  how  was  he  to 


INSIDE  INFORMATION  153 

know  that  all  this  by-play  was  purposeful;  that  it 
constituted  the  thin  edge  of  the  wedge;  that  it 
was  the  prelude  to  a  catastrophe  that  was  destined 
to  occur  within  the  next  few  days? — all  of  which 
Roxane  knew  and  pursued  her  course  accord- 
ingly. 

'*  Will  you  always  explain  these  things  to  me?  " 
she  queried. 

"Of  course,"  replied  Bonwit;"but  are  you 
quite  sure  that  is  all  that  worried  you  ?  " 

The  woman  smiled  and  showed  her  white  teeth. 

"  It  is  not  right  to  worry  you — worry  you  about 
affairs — a  woman  should  never  do  that — never 
worry  a  man  with  her  troubles.  Her  mission  is  to 
entertain,  to  amuse,  to  comfort,  to  .  .  ."  She 
stopped  suddenly,  a  faint  little  smile  hovering  on 
her  face. 

"  Go  on,"  said  Bonwit,  his  great  love  showing 
in  his  eyes. 

"  Those  are  not  altogether  my  thoughts,"  she 
hastened  to  say.  "  No,  for  I  think  the  best  part 
of  love,  yes,  of  matrimony,  is  to  hear  and  help 
bear  each  other's  worries.  Does  one  confide  in 
parents,  brothers,  sisters?  Isn't  it  usually  some 
one  whom  we  have  chosen — well,  just  as  you  have 


i54  THE  CATSPAW 

chosen  me  and  I  have  chosen  you  ?    Perhaps,"  she 
faltered,  "  you  do  not  agree  with  me." 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  blurted  out  Bonwit,  going 
unheeding  to  his  doom. 

"Ah,  but  you  do  not  tell  me  your  worries, 
dear,"  she  went  on  swiftly;  "  all  that  you  tell  me 
is  love,  love,  love.  Is  it  because  I  am  not  worthy 
to  hear  the  rest — too  little  head  and  brain  to  be 
confided  in?  " 

"  Surely,"  spluttered  Bonwit,  delighted,  "  you 
don't  want  me  to  bother  you  with  ..." 

She  held  up  her  forefinger. 

"  Of  course,  you  must  have  business  worries  like 
every  one  else.  Ah,  I  have  seen  the  little  wrinkles 
on  your  brow,  and  I  have  tried  to  smooth  them  out 
as  no  woman  ever  tried!  I  have  said  to  myself, 
time  and  again,  '  Of  course  I  can  be  of  no  help,  I 
cannot  understand,  but  I  can  sympathise.'  But  you 
never  came  to  me,  and  I  have  often  wondered 
if  you  did  not  go  to  some  other  woman  for 
sympathy." 

Bonwit's  countenance  became  rubicund  with  joy. 

"Great  Scott,  Roxane!"  he  cried.  "You 
couldn't  have  said  anything  that  pleased  me  more ! 
I've  just  been  aching  to  tell  you  all  about  it." 


INSIDE  INFORMATION  155 

"  About  what  ?  "  she  asked,  startled. 

For  a  moment  Bonwit  was  silent.  Upon  him 
were  the  habits  formed  by  years  of  business  expe- 
rience. He  never  talked  bank  to  any  one  outside 
of  the  bank. — a  banking  business  is  a  secret  busi- 
ness. And  yet,  the  confidence,  the  faith,  the  witch- 
ery of  this  woman  intoxicated  him  as  if  with  wine. 
At  length  he  ventured: — 

"  I'll  tell  you,  Roxane,  you're  dead  right.  I 
have  been  worried — worried  like  the  devil,  too. 
It's  the  bank  that's  worried  me." 

Roxane  looked  alarmed. 

"It  will  not  break?" 

"  No,  no,"  he  laughingly  reassured  her;  "  it 
isn't  that.  It's  the  board  of  directors  that's  got 
me — me,  Philander  Bonwit,  the  biggest  banking 
man  in  town — by  the  throat !  " 

Roxane  looked  at  his  throat  sympathetically. 

"Tell  me.   ..." 

"  They're  too  progressive,"  he  went  on;  "  they 
want  to  run  a  bank  like  a  department  store — want 
to  take  in  every  little  twopenny  account  that 
comes  along — and  they  want  to  take  big  risks 
when  it  comes  to  loaning  money.  I'm  conserva- 
tive, they  say,  too  conservative.  But  they're 


i56  THE  CATSPAW 

too  progressive,  I  tell  them — and  so  they 
are." 

Roxane  clenched  her  right  hand. 

"  You  should  take  them  all  by  the  throat  and 
throw  them  out  into  the  street,"  she  said  with  a 
show  of  anger. 

Bonwit  shook  his  head. 

"  They're  elected  by  the  stockholders.  They're 
the  directors.  They  have  the  say." 

"  Some  day,"  she  ventured,  clutching  somewhere 
within  the  folds  of  her  dress  Gaspard's  statement 
of  account,  "  some  day  maybe  I  could  buy  some 
stock  in  this  bank  of  yours;  maybe  then  I  could 
help  you  to  get  them  by  the  throat." 

Bonwit's  heart  leaped. 

"I  hadn't  thought  of  that,"  he  said;  but  his 
tell-tale  blush  was  not  lost  on  Roxane.  She  knew, 
and  was  glad  to  know,  that  he  had  thought  of  this 
many  times.  For  Bonwit  may  have  been  one  part 
heart,  but  he  was  at  least  three  parts  greed,  and, 
much  as  the  fascinating  Mrs.  Bellairs  enthralled 
him,  her  purse  was  not  without  its  fascination, 
too. 

"  But  that  isn't  all,"  declared  Roxane  tactfully. 
'  There  is  something  special — some  crisis  has  wor- 


INSIDE  INFORMATION  157 

ried  you  more  than  ever  the  last  few  days.  Why, 
you've  actually  been  getting  thin — and  it's  all 
wrong  for  one  of  your  physique  to  get  thin." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  asked  Bonwit,  who  had 
spent  a  considerable  portion  of  his  time  in  reduc- 
ing his  weight — a  reduction  never  at  any  time 
perceptible. 

"  I  know  so,"  she  answered  promptly.  "  Yet 
you  please  me  just  as  you  are,  bon  ami." 

Whereupon  Mr.  Bonwit  digressed.  He  insisted 
at  this  juncture  that  he  was  entitled  to  a  dozen 
kisses ;  finally  reduced  the  number  to  half  a  dozen, 
and  in  the  end  pleaded  for  one,  which,  however, 
was  not  forthcoming. 

"  Not  until  you  have  told  me  all  your  troubles," 
responded  the  elusive  Mrs.  Bellairs;  "for  only 
then  will  you  stop  getting  thin,  and  only  then  shall 
I  love  you.  Now  then.  ..." 

"The  recent  trouble,"  obeyed  Bonwit,  "  is  due 
to  the  decision  of  the  board  of  directors — contrary 
to  my  vote — in  taking  on  a  certain  Western  bank 
of  somewhat  shaky  standing.  This  bank's  offer 
was  too  alluring,  and  my  bank  jumped  at  the  bait. 
They're  satisfied  that  this  new  customer  is  sound — 
and,  of  course,  if  it  is  so,  we'll  make  a  lot  of  money 


i58  THE  CATSPAW 

on  it.  But  other  banks  have  passed  it  up — other 
Eastern  banks,  and  my  view  is  that  what  isn't 
good  enough  for  the  other  chaps  isn't  good  enough 
for  me." 

"  You  never  take  chances,  then  ?  "  observed  the 
widow. 

"No,"  admitted  Bonwit. 

There  was  infinite  allurement  in  the  lifting  of 
Roxane's  eyebrows. 

"  And  yet,"  she  protested,  "  what  a  chance  you 
take  in  me.  But  go  on — I'm  all  attention,  all  sym- 
pathy; tell  me  everything,  dear." 

"  The  whole  thing  culminated  in  a  decisive  step 
the  board  took.  This  new  Western  customer 
wanted  a  hundred  thousand  cash — wanted  it  right 
away — on  securities  that  don't  look  good  to  me. 
The  board  thinks  they  are  gilt-edged  and  are  going 
to  send  the  currency  right  out." 

"Currency?"  demanded  Mrs.  Bellairs  interest- 
edly. '  You  mean  coin,  gold,  silver  ..." 

"Oh,  no!"  responded  Bonwit  carelessly; 
41  bills,  that's  all." 

"  And  they  would  risk — how  much  did  you 
say?" 

"A  hundred  thousand,"  repeated  Bonwit. 


INSIDE  INFORMATION  159 

"  And,"  she  went  on,  her  eagerness  disguised 
as  sympathy,  "  they  sent  all  this  money  out  on  bad 
security." 

"  Humph !  "  grunted  Bonwit,  his  hand  clench- 
ing at  the  recollection,  "  they  would  have  sent  it 
yesterday — it's  in  our  vaults,  ready  to  go  out — 
if  I  hadn't  raised  thunder  with  them  at  the  meet- 
ing. Talk  about  getting  thin!  Why,  I  lost  five 
pounds  trying  to  persuade  those  chaps  ..." 

"  You  won,  then,"  interrupted  Roxane  with  a 
smile. 

"No,"  he  quickly  informed  her;  "there's  a 
truce.  They're  going  to  hold  another  meeting  on 
it  in  a  day  or  two,  but  it's  only  a  polite  concession 
to  me — old  Bonwit,  as  they  call  me.  I  can  see 
they'll  have  their  way;  their  policy  is  going  to  win 
out — but  it  spells  ruin  for  the  bank  in  time.  Fools 
that  they  are !  " 

Roxane  suddenly  rose. 

"Ah,  you  should  have  told  me  this  long  be- 
fore! For,  let  me  tell  you  something.  To-day, 
it  is  true,  it  may  be  impossible  to  ward  off  this 
crisis;  but  the  time  will  come — the  time  will  come 
when  you'll  not  only  be  the  president — as  you  now 
are, — but  you  shall  be  the  board  of  directors — the 


160  THE  CATSPAW 

stockholders — the  bank  itself,  and  your  word  will 
be  law.  You  ..." 

She  paused;  Bonwit,  too,  had  risen.  His 
thoughts  were  on  the  Gaspard  account,  and  his 
eyes  glowed  with  business  ambition. 

"When  that  time  comes   ..." 

Roxane  stretched  wide  her  arms. 

"  Would  that  I  had  known  all  this  before,"  she 
repeated,  and  quite  honestly.  "  You  should  have 
told  me  everything.  But,  look!  "  she  cried,  star- 
ing at  his  glowing  face;  "  even  in  the  telling  you 
have  grown  stronger,  younger.  That  is  the 
secret  of  the  confidence  of  love.  In  the  telling, 
troubles  vanish;  do  they  not?  Keep  your  eyes 
on  the  future,  keep  your  eyes  on  me,  my 
friend." 

"  I  can't  keep  my  eyes  off  you,"  sighed  Bonwit. 

"  Ah,"  cried  Roxane,  "  to  be  of  some  use  to 
you!  If  I  were  able  to  stand  here  now  and  say 
to  you — to  the  dastardly  board  of  your  bank — No, 
that  shipment  does  not  go  West!  However,  it 
is  good  to  think  that  the  time  will  come  when  I 
shall  be  of  some  help.  ..." 

After  he  had  gone,  Roxane  ascended  to  her 
cupola,  and  stood  for  a  long  time  in  the  dusk  glanc- 


INSIDE  INFORMATION  161 

ing  down  upon  the  early  evening  lights  of  the 
town. 

"  Little  he  knows,"  she  whispered  to  herself 
with  a  smile,  "  how  soon  the  purpose  of  the  board 
will  come  to  naught — how  soon  his  policies  will  be 
enforced." 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   KEYBOARD   CIPHER 

ROXANE  BELLAIRS  entered  the  Manufacturers' 
National  Bank  and  stood  tapping  upon  the  plate- 
glass  window  of  the  president's  door.  It  was  after 
business  hours,  and,  save  for  a  clerk  or  two  at  work 
in  remote  corners  of  the  bank,  Mr.  Bonwit  was 
alone. 

"  I've  come,  you  see,  according  to  my  promise," 
announced  the  widow.  "  And  here,"  as  the  foot- 
man entered  with  a  huge  black  case,  "  we  have  the 
implement  of  torture." 

"  Oh !  "  gasped  the  president  as  he  glanced 
upon  the  footman's  burden,  "  I  thought  you  were 
going  to  do  this  at  your  place." 

The  widow  shook  her  head. 

"I  have  no  light,  my  friend,  save  on  my  lawn; 
and  surely  you  wouldn't  want  me  to  take  a  picture 
of  you  there.  You  have  such  wide  west  windows," 
she  announced,  as  her  glance  roved  into  the  bank. 

"  And  at  this  time  of  day  the  sun  is  just  where  he 

162 


THE  KEYBOARD  CIPHER         163 

should  be.  Come,  and  I  will  show  you  a  trick  or 
two  worth  while." 

"Are  you  going  to  take  my  picture  in  this 
room  ?  "  asked  Bonwit. 

Roxane  gazed  critically  at  the  lights  and  shades. 
After  a  moment,  she  answered: — 

"  No,  not  in  this  room,  but  somewhere  in  the 
bank.  Suppose  we  make  a  tour — just  a  little  tour 
of  inspection." 

"Delighted,"  he  said,  leading  the  way;  but 
suddenly  he  stopped,  his  face  flushed,  and  added: 
"  Just  a  moment,  Roxane,  until — until  I  send  these 
young  chaps  home." 

When  the  president  of  the  Manufacturers'  re- 
turned he  found  Roxane  alone,  having  dismissed 
her  footman. 

"  Not  much  of  a  cosey  corner,  this  old  bank, 
Roxane,"  resumed  Mr.  Bonwit,  holding  out  his 
arms  in  a  very  earnest  but  somewhat  lumbering 
manner;  "  but  still  ..." 

"  Oh,  but  we  are  not  here  for  cosey  corners," 
she  interrupted,  shaking  her  slender,  white,  jew- 
elled finger  at  him.  "  We  have  business  afoot. 
Come,  come  with  me."  And  she  led  him  into  the 
bank  and  to  the  three  broad  barred  windows,  be- 


1 64  THE  CATSPAW 

yond  which  the  sun,  still  white,  hung  low  in  the 
heavens. 

"  Now,  then,"  she  went  on,  "  we  must  take  you 
as  I  am  to  paint  you — a  typical  banking  man,  with 
all  the  lights  and  shades  strong  upon  the  face; 
must  we  not?  " 

"  I  thought  I  was  going  to  sit  for  this  portrait," 
grumbled  Bonwit. 

"  You  child !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  You  shall  sit 
and  look  into  my  eyes  for  many  days  while  I  shall 
work  like  mad.  Of  course,  for  the  final  touches 
you  shall  sit.  You  know  the  modern  method  is 
to  outline  everything.  First,  comes  the  photo- 
graph; then  the  life-size,  life-like  enlargement; 
then  you,  the  life  model;  and  finally  the  finished 
portrait.  Now,  dear,  suppose  you  stand  here  for 
a  moment." 

Mr.  Bonwit  stood,  where  she  placed  him,  in 
the  full  glare  of  the  sunlight.  Swiftly,  then, 
she  placed  the  huge  camera  upon  its  tripod, 
and  quite  as  swiftly  viewed  him  through  the 
lens. 

"  It  will  not  do,"  she  said;  "  we  shall  have  to 
try  elsewhere." 

They  tried  another  place,  and  still  another,  and 


THE  KEYBOARD  CIPHER         165 

finally  Roxane's  eyes  lighted  with  the  joy  and  tri- 
umph of  the  artist  as  she  exultantly  exclaimed: — 

"  At  last  we  have  it !  I  shall  place  you  precisely 
where  you  belong — directly  beside  this  huge  vault 
door." 

And,  indeed,  no  sooner  had  the  words  left  her 
lips  than  her  subject  was  standing  where  the  lights 
and  shades  so  adjusted  themselves  as  to  set  forth 
his  portly  figure  to  the  best  advantage;  and,  in 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  the  widow  had  taken 
no  less  than  six  pictures  of  him  in  various  posi- 
tions beside  the  big  vault  door. 

"  Wouldn't  be  a  bad  plan  to  have  that  vault 
door  in  the  painting,  would  it  ? "  he  asked. 
"  Rather  typical  of  a  bank  man,  seems  to  me." 

"  Indeed,  no — there  shall  be  no  vault  door 
in  this  picture.  It  is  the  man  that  I  shall 
paint." 

A  few  evenings  later  she  exhibited  to  Mr.  Bon- 
wit  the  finished  photograph.  "And  now,"  she 
added,  "  if  you  will  ascend  with  me  to  my  studio 
in  the  cupola  of  "  The  Ivies,"  you  shall  see  where 
you  and  I  shall  spend  many  pleasant  days  to- 
gether." 

They  ascended  the  winding  staircase  that  led 


1 66  THE  CATSPAW 

to  the  cupola,  madame  very  lightly,  and  Mr.  Bon- 
wit  very  heavily. 

"  Jerusalem ! "  he  cried  out  as  he  looked  upon 
the  expanse  of  canvas  extending  almost  from  the 
ceiling  to  the  floor;  "you're  going  to  paint  me 
big  enough,  Roxane;  aren't  you?" 

"  I  have  a  big  man  to  paint,"  she  explained, 
making  him  a  courtesy.  "  And  here,"  she  contin- 
ued, turning  to  the  life-size  photograph,  "  is  an  en- 
largement from  which  I  sketch  in  the  rough  detail. 
And  every  day,  or  as  often  as  you  like  to  come, 
you  may  come  and  see  for  yourself  how  I  am  get- 
ting on.  Day  by  day,  I  shall  bring  the  real  Bon- 
wit,  almost  a  living  man,  out  of  this  canvas,  out 
of  these  paint  brushes.  You  shall  see — ah,  I  am 
an  artist!  And,  like  all  artists,  I  have  one  great, 
overwhelming,  mastering  inspiration,  as  you  shall 
see.  That  is  you,  dear." 

Day  after  day,  after  banking  hours,  Mr.  Bon- 
wit  wended  his  way  to  "  The  Ivies  "  on  the  top  of 
the  hill,  climbing  his  way  into  the  cupola,  where 
he  gazed  with  undisguised  pleasure  upon  the  fast- 
growing  Bonwit,  who  appeared  upon  the  canvas. 
On  one  of  these  occasions,  he  grumblingly  told 
her: — 


THE  KEYBOARD  CIPHER         167 

"  Roxane,  I  don't  see  why  you  don't  let  me  an- 
nounce our  engagement — why  you  won't  set  the 
day?" 

"  Why,  it's  just  glorious — this  being  betrothed 
and  nobody  knowing  it.  In  this  concealment  there 
is  just  the  spice  of  romance  that  the  artist  enjoys. 
Besides,  could  I  paint,  do  you  think,  the  portrait 
of  my  husband?  It's  the  apparent  freedom  and 
yet  the  bondage  that  I  enjoy.  The  picture  must 
be  finished  first.  When  you  marry  me,  you  may 
destroy  the  artist." 

"  Just  as  you  say,  Roxane.  But  how  long  be- 
fore it  will  be  finished?  " 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"Not  even  an  artist  could  answer  that.  You 
must  be  patient.  Let  us  dream;  reality  is  close 
enough  at  hand." 

It  was  that  same  evening,  after  Mr.  Bonwit  had 
taken  his  departure,  that  Roxane  Bellairs  stole 
back  once  more  into  the  cupola,  swept  on  her  bril- 
liant lights  over  her  canvas,  and  drew  down  the 
shades,  where  she  sat  for  a  long  time  with  folded 
hands,  waiting. 

At  last  she  heard  the  sound  she  waited  for:  a 
gentle  tap-tap  upon  the  window.  In  an  instant 


1 68  THE  CATSPAW 

she  extinguished  the  lights,  raised  the  shades,  and 
looked  out  Upon  the  sloping  roof,  with  his  face 
not  three  feet  from  hers,  stood  a  man.  She  threw 
back  the  window,  and  the  man  leaped  in;  and 
then  once  more  she  swept  on  her  lights. 

"  I  came  up  the  outside  way,"  remarked  St. 
John,  as  he  stood  half-blinking  in  the  full  glare. 
"I  suppose  that  was  all  right  to-night?" 

"  Yes,"  she  whispered.  "  It  was  the  best  way. 
I  have  wanted  so  to  see  you.  These  weeks  have 
seemed  like  months,  years.  Oh,  when  are  we  go- 
ing to  live,  Kitt?  Now  it  is  but  a  wave  of  the 
hand,  a  glance  of  the  eye,  a  word  here  and  there. 
When,  oh,  when  do  we  begin  to  live?  " 

St.  John  looked  steadily  into  her  eyes. 

"We  are  living  now,  Roxane,"  he  said. 
"  There's  something  more  in  life  than  love,  isn't 
there?  Don't  you  feel  it?  " 

"For  you,  possibly,"  she  responded;  "but  not 
for  me.  All  that  I'm  doing,  Kitt,  is  for  you." 

"  And  don't  you  know,"  he  returned,  "  that  all 
I  do  is  for  you?  Don't  you  know  that  I'm  fol- 
lowing out  the  plans  that  were  conceived  by  you  ?  " 

She  threw  back  her  head  in  sheer  admiration. 

"  And  you  are  doing  nobly,  Kitt,  nobly.    You 


THE  KEYBOARD  CIPHER         169 

have  the  real  instinct,  whilst  I — I'm  a  pretty  poor 
artisan.  I  can  only  act  by  subterfuge;  but  you, 
you  do;  you  force;  you  seize.  Only,"  she  added 
with  a  puzzled  air,  "  that  is  what  I  can't  under- 
stand. How  do  you  escape  the  law?  " 

St.  John  smiled  a  grim  smile. 

'*  That  is  something  that  nobody  knows  but  I. 
Roxane,  if  I  have  one  virtue,  it  is  that  I  keep  my 
secrets  to  myself."  He  turned  to  the  canvas.  "  Is 
this  what  you  desired  to  show  me — this  half-fin- 
ished portrait  of  the  man  you  love?  " 

"  Love !  "  And  she  looked  the  scorn  that  she 
felt  as  she  added :  "  How  I  hate  the  sight  of 
him!" 

"You  could  do  worse,  Roxane.  But,"  he 
added,  "  you  are  not  up  to  the  mark  on  this  piece 
of  work.  This  is  not  one  of  your  masterpieces. 
What  does  Bonwit  think  about  it?  " 

"  Being  far  from  a  masterpiece  himself,  friend 
Bonwit  is  no  judge.  How  can  one  paint  without 
an  inspiration,  and  who  could  be  inspired  by  Bon- 
wit !  Some  day,  Kitt,  I  shall  paint  your  portrait, 
but  not  until  we  begin  to  live.  No,"  she  concluded 
hastily,  "  I  didn't  send  for  you  to  see  Bonwit's 
picture ;  I  sent  for  you  to  look  upon  another." 


1 7o  THE  CATSPAW 

Then,  before  doing  what  she  had  to  do,  Roxane 
darted  to  the  door  and  made  sure  that  it  was  se- 
curely locked,  examined  the  windows,  and  assured 
herself  that  there  was  no  crack  or  crevice  through 
which  prying  eyes  might  see ;  and  now  stepping  to 
the  Bonwit  portrait,  she  drew  it  suddenly,  swiftly, 
deftly  aside,  revealing  another  picture — a  study  in 
still  life  that  made  St.  John  hold  his  breath  in 
sheer  wonder  and  admiration. 

"  Great  Heavens,  Roxane !  "  he  exclaimed  ex- 
ultantly ;  "  this  is  a  masterpiece !  There  is  inspi- 
ration in  that,  all  right." 

"  Inspiration !  Yes,  Kitt,  because  it  was  done 
for  you.  Oh,  I  have  worked  so  hard  upon 
it!" 

And,  as  Kittredge  St.  John  stood  there  glanc- 
ing alternately  at  the  new  canvas  and  the  woman 
before  him,  there  was  borne  in  upon  him  the  sud- 
den realisation  of  all  that  the  woman  had  done 
for  him. 

4  You're  a  marvel,  a  genius,  Roxane !  "  he  said. 
41  Life  is  incomplete  without  you."  Roxane 
sighed;  he  went  on  dreamily:  "Yes,  it  is  as  you 
say.  Some  day  we  shall  begin  to  live." 

There  was  a  silence;   St.  John  was  the  first 


THE  KEYBOARD  CIPHER         171 

to  break  it,  for,  turning  to  the  canvas,  he  sud- 
denly asked: — 

"  Roxane,  when  can  I  take  this  with  me?  " 

Her  reply  came  reluctantly,  after  some  delay: — 

"  Any  time  you  say." 

"And  when  may  I  use  it?"  he  inquired,  his 
whole  attention  hanging  on  her  words. 

"  That  is  something  that  my  friend  Mr.  Bon- 
wit  will  tell  me;  and,  when  he  tells  me,  I  shall 
let  you  know." 

When  St.  John  left  the  cupola  that  night,  he 
carried  with  him,  rolled  into  a  cylinder  under  his 
arm,  Roxane  Bellairs'  clever  picture  of  still  life. 

Some  days  later  the  cashier  of  the  Manufac- 
turers' National  Bank  and  Mr.  Bonwit,  the  presi- 
dent, were  closeted  in  the  latter's  room  in  close 
consultation. 

"  I  don't  suppose,"  said  Bonwit,  "  that  this  chap 
would  dare  to  tackle  another  bank  in  town.  Mor- 
daunt's  was  a  rattle-trap  affair,  and  he  probably 
knew  it." 

"  Whoever  he  is,  he's  undoubtedly  clever.  How- 
ever, I'm  not  so  sure  that  it  was  not  this  man  St. 
John." 


i72  THE  CATSPAW 

"  Nonsense !  Why,  St.  John  was  miles  from 
the  place.  Of  course,  some  clever  chap  did  the 
trick,  some  professional  yeggman,  that  goes  with- 
out saying.  But  Burke  and  O'Connell  never  saw 
St.  John  that  night — they  merely  thought  they 
did.  My  view  is  that  they  were  on  a  little  spree. 
Didn't  you  notice  how  confused  they  were  when 
they  tried  to  explain,  on  the  stand,  how  the  man 
got  away  from  them  in  the  face  of  their  re- 
volvers? No  living  man  could  get  away  as  they 
described  it !  Besides,  I  had  an  interview — and  so 
did  Steele,  of  the  Bankers'  Club — with  Burke,  the 
next  morning,  and  the  man  looked  and  acted  like 
a  man  who  had  been  on  a  spree.  Any  ordinary 
officer  could  have  nabbed  that  thief,  and  I  can't 
understand  why  they  didn't." 

"  The  fact  remains,"  said  the  cashier,  "  that 
that  Mordaunt  job  was  the  cleverest  thing  that  has 
ever  been  done  here." 

"It  looked  to  me  like  an  inside  job,  and,  the 
more  I  think  of  it,  the  more  I  believe  it  was.  The 
cutting  of  the  bars  and  the  cutting  of  the  window- 
pane  were  all  a  blind;  in  fact,  I  think  most  bank 
robberies  are  liable  to  be  inside  jobs;  and  that's 
what  I'm  protecting  the  Manufacturers'  against." 


THE  KEYBOARD  CIPHER        173 

"  What  have  you  done?  " 

"  What  I've  done  is  this :  Our  night-watchmen 
are  to  stay  out  here  in  the  corridor;  the  big  vault 
door  and  the  small  safe  are  visible  from  here; 
they  are  not  to  go  inside.  They  can  see  every- 
thing from  here,  absolutely  everything.  I'm  go- 
ing to  have  a  new  set  of  locks  to  keep  the  watch- 
men out;  I'm  going  to  see  to  it  that  nobody  has 
access  to  the  vault  or  to  the  safe  at  night.  Of 
course,  we  think  we  can  trust  Mackerley,  and  we 
think  we  can  trust  Jim.  But,  suppose  we  don't 
trust  anybody." 

"  I  guess  you're  right,"  sighed  the  cashier. 
"  But  they're  good  watchmen,"  he  added,  "  and 
don't  drink.  We  ought  to  be  safe  enough." 

But,  notwithstanding  that  the  Manufacturers' 
had  been  safe  for  many  years,  the  improvements 
as  suggested  by  Mr.  Bonwit  were  adopted  by  the 
Board.  And  thus  it  came  about  that  Mackerley, 
the  head  watchman,  and  Jim,  his  assistant,  every 
night,  turn  and  turn  about,  paced  the  corridor  in 
full  view  of  everything  inside  the  bank,  and 
more  particularly  in  full  view  of  the  big  vault 
door. 

It  happened,  however,  that  one  Saturday  night, 


i74  THE  CATSPAW 

a  few  weeks  later,  while  Jim,  the  second  watch- 
man, was  sitting  in  the  bank's  corridor  smoking  a 
cigar — a  cigar  that  some  customer  of  the  bank 
had  tendered  to  him  on  that  day — his  gaze  stray- 
ing lazily  and  sleepily  from  one  window  to  the 
other,  and  from  the  small  safe  to  the  big  vault, 
suddenly  found  himself  staring,  as  in  a  dream,  to- 
ward the  big  vault  door.  In  an  instant  he  was 
on  his  feet,  gun  in  hand,  rushing  down  the  stairs 
into  the  basement  and  into  Mackerley's  little  room. 
He  found  Mackerley  reading  an  evening  paper. 

"  Mackerley,"  he  cried,  shaking  his  arm  fiercely, 
"  there's  a  burglar  in  the  bank !  Come,  come 
quick!" 

"  You're  dreamin',  Jim,  dreamin',"  Mackerley 
told  him  when  he  arrived  on  the  scene. 

"  Dreamin'  nothin',"  retorted  Jim.  "  I  should 
think  that  I  knew  when  I  saw  a  thing  with  my  own 
eyes!" 

"  Well,  what  did  you  see?  "  asked  Mackerley. 

Jim's  grip  tightened  upon  his  chief's  arm.  He 
answered : — 

"  I  saw  a  man  come  out  of  that  vault  not  more 
than  three  minutes  ago.  Do  you  understand— a 
three  minutes  ago." 


THE  KEYBOARD  CIPHER         175 

"  No,  I  don't  understand,"  returned  the  other. 
"  How  could  he  come  out  of  the  door  when  .  .  . " 

"  By  George,"  interrupted  Jim,  "  that's  the 
funny  part  of  it.  He  didn't  come  out  of  the  door; 
he  came  out  of  the  side  of  the  vault,  right  near 
the  door." 

"  The  side  of  the  vault !  Why,  he  couldn't 
come  out  of  the  side  of  the  vault;  there's  three 
feet  of  steel  and  brick  and  mortar  there,  and  he 
didn't  leave  a  hole." 

"  Whether  he  did  or  not,  you  can  depend  upon 
it  when  I  tell  you  that  I  saw  a  man  come  out  of 
the  side  of  that  vault  not  more  than  three  minutes 
ago.  He's  somewhere  in  the  bank." 

"  But  what  kind  of  a  looking  man  was  he?" 
Mackerley  asked,  still  unbelieving. 

"  I  can  tell  you  that  all  right,"  answered  Jim, 
"  for  I  know  who  the  man  is.  He's  Kittredge  St. 
John,  a  friend  of  our  president's,  a  friend  of  the 
whole  town.  He  saw  me,  too,  and  looked  me  full 
in  the  face  as  I  looked  at  him.  In  fact,  we  stood 
like  a  pair  of  yaps  for  half  a  minute,  looking 
squarely  at  each  other,  and  then  what  do  you 
think  he  did?" 

"Well?" 


i76  THE  CATSPAW 

"  He  drew  a  gun,  actually  pointed  it  at  me, 
and  I  drew  my  gun  and  covered  him;  then,  quick 
as  a  flash,  he  darted  into  that  there  room  with  his 
dress-suit  case,  shutting  the  door  behind  him." 

For  the  first  time  Mackerley  started.  Before, 
when  on  his  round,  that  door  had  been  open,  and 
now  it  was  closed.  Some  agency  had  done  it,  some 
human  agency;  there  must  be  some  one  in  the 
bank. 

"What  are  we  going  to  do?"  he  now  asked, 
thoroughly  alarmed. 

Jim  looked  at  him  hopelessly. 

"Well,"  went  on  the  other,  "to  begin  with, 
we're  not  going  to  make  fools  of  ourselves.  That 
room  has  got  bars  on  all  its  windows;  nobody  is 
going  to  pass  through  without  our  seeing  him. 
The  thing  to  do  is  to  telephone  to  Bonwit."  And, 
accordingly,  he  telephoned  the  president,  who, 
pooh-poohing  the  story  though  he  did  over  the 
wire,  nevertheless  hustled  into  his  clothes  and  came 
down  with  his  bunch  of  keys. 

"It's  up  to  you,  Mr.  Bonwit,  to  call  up  the 
police,"  said  Mackerley;  "Jim  and  I  will  go  in 
and  investigate." 

iWhereupon,  Mr.  Bonwit  unlocked  the  barred 


THE  KEYBOARD  CIPHER         177 

door  leading  into  the  bank  and  then  retreated  to 
the  safety  of  the  president's  room,  wiping  the  per- 
spiration from  his  head  and  flooding  his  own  sanc- 
tum with  all  the  light  that  he  could  command. 

"  Now,  Mackerley,"  he  said,  "  you  and  Jim  can 
investigate  while  I  call  up  the  police."  But  he 
didn't  call  up  the  police — that  is,  just  then, — for 
no  sooner  had  Mackerley  placed  his  hand  upon 
the  door-knob  of  the  suspected  room  than  a 
muffled  shot  rang  out  and  a  bullet  crashed  through 
the  door  above  the  watchman's  head. 

"  We've  got  him  trapped  at  any  rate,  Jim," 
he  said,  trying  the  door  once  more  and  finding 
it  locked.  "  He's  in  there  and  he  can't  get 
out." 

Then  he  tiptoed,  with  the  second  watchman, 
back  to  the  president,  who,  by  this  time,  was  in  a 
panic  of  fear;  but,  before  he  reached  Bonwit,  his 
assistant  turned  to  Mackerley  and  said : — 

"  Here's  the  very  spot  where  he  came  out  of 
the  vault!  " 

For  a  fraction  of  a  second  they  stood  gazing 
upon  the  vault  door,  or  upon  what  seemed  to  be 
the  vault  door,  and  then,  full  tilt,  forgetting  the 
man  in  the  room  beyond,  they  dashed  down  the 


i78  THE  CATSPAW 

corridor  and  dragged  the  panic-stricken  Mr.  Bon- 
wit  into  the  bank. 

"  Mr.  Bonwit,"  gasped  Mackerley,  "  do  you 
see  that  there — what  is  that  thing?" 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  asked  Bonwit. 

"  That,"  said  Mackerley,  pointing  with  a 
tremulous  finger. 

"  Why,  that's  the  vault  door.  What  else  could 
it  be?" 

"  Are  you  sure?  "  persisted  Mackerley.  "  Come 
and  see  ..." 

And  then  it  was  that  Mr.  Bonwit  went  over, 
and,  to  his  great  astonishment,  he  perceived  that 
what  had  seemed  to  him  to  be  the  vault  door  was 
not  the  vault  door,  but  a  counterfeit  presentment 
of  it — a  huge  canvas,  done  in  oils,  that  reproduced 
the  vault  door  in  all  details. 

"  And  it  was  out  of  here  he  came !  "  cried  Jim ; 
"  right  out  of  here." 

The  president's  eyes  followed  the  gesture  of  the 
second  watchman. 

"  Out  of  the  side  of  the  vault,"  persisted  Jim. 

And  again  Mr.  Bonwit's  eyes  bulged  with  as- 
tonishment, for  the  place  indicated  by  his  employee 
was  not  the  side  of  the  vault;  it  was  another  paint- 


THE  KEYBOARD  CIPHER         179 

ing  in  still  life  on  a  strip  of  canvas  not  a  foot 
wide,  painted  in  dull  stone  colours.  Bonwit  gin- 
gerly lifted  it  up  and,  forgetting  temporarily  his 
fear,  he  stepped  within.  Inside  this  stage-setting 
was  the  real  vault  door,  the  painted  canvas  hang- 
ing having  constituted  a  clever  framework  set  up 
before  it — a  sort  of  box  within  which  one  man 
might  move  about.  There  was  no  man  there  now, 
but  Mr.  Bonwit,  after  placing  his  hand  upon  the 
handle  of  the  genuine  door,  retreated  in  great  con- 
sternation :  the  vault  was  open. 

"  Mackerley,  see  if  there's  anything  inside !  " 
he  ordered. 

Mackerley,  with  his  revolver  in  hand,  drew 
back  the  bolts  and  threw  wide  the  door,  which 
brushed  against  the  canvas  on  which  its  fellow  had 
been  painted.  He  found  no  man  inside;  in  fact, 
he  found  scarcely  anything  else. 

"  The  Western  shipment  has  been  stolen,  Mr. 
Bonwit!"  he  exclaimed,  his  face  as  white  as  a 
sheet.  "  It's  gone — every  bit  of  it.  ... " 

"What!"  roared  Bonwit.  "Here,  let  me 
look!" 

He  looked  and  found  it  all  too  true. 

"  Great  Heavens,  there's  a  hundred  thousand 


1 80  THE  CATSPAW 

dollars  gone — gone,  do  you  understand !  "  he  cried 
out.  "  A  hundred  thousand  dollars  and  more !  " 

The  three  men  had  not  realised  that  they  had 
been  singularly  inactive.  The  discovery  of  the 
painted  door  and  sort  of  stage  curtain,  behind 
which  a  clever  man  had  worked  while  they  had 
looked  on  complacently  for  half  the  night,  had 
paralysed,  benumbed  them. 

Like  most  men  in  large  banks,  they  were  un- 
used to  robbery — although  they  are  constantly  on 
the  lookout  for  it — and  here  was  a  cleverness  that 
baffled  them.  When  the  burglar  had  adjusted  the 
false  front,  and  how  he  had  done  it,  were  mys- 
teries which  gave  rise  to  immediate  speculation. 
It  was  the  certain  loss  of  the  big  Western  ship- 
ment of  United  States  bank  notes,  however,  that 
forced  them  into  sudden  action. 

"  Never  fear,  Mr.  Bonwit,"  said  Mackerley, 
"  the  man  is  in  that  room,  and  we're  going  to  get 
him  if  it  takes  half  of  the  police  force  in  the 
town  to  do  it." 

"And  don't  forget,  Mr.  Bonwit,"  whispered 
Jim,  "  that  I  saw  the  man,  with  his  dress-suit  case, 
too,  with  them  bills  inside  of  it.  And  don't  forget 
that  the  man  was  Mr.  St.  John." 


THE  KEYBOARD  CIPHER         181 

"  St.  John !  You're  crazy,  man !  Those  rum 
policemen  also  said  they  had  seen  St.  John;  but 
you're  not  drunk!  Anyhow,  St.  John's  a  friend 
of  mine;  he's  rich,  straight  as  a  string!  What's 
the  matter  with  you,  Jim  ?  " 

"  I  tell  you,"  returned  Jim  doggedly,  "  that  I 
saw  Mr.  St.  John.    He  looked  me  in  the  face  for 
half  a  minute;  I  know  what  I  know." 
Bonwit  thrust  forth  his  hand,  saying: — 
4  Why,  Jim,  you — you  must  be  mistaken.    You 
didn't  believe  that  it  was  St.  John  that  robbed 
the  Mordaunt  Bank,  did  you?" 
"  I  didn't  before ;  but  I  do  now." 
"  Ah,"  said  Bonwit,  "  every  man  in  town  has 
got  St.  John  on  the  brain.    I  guess  you  were  look- 
ing for  him  and  thought  you  saw  him." 

"  All  this  doesn't  help  us  to  get  this  chap  that's 
in  there ! "  suddenly  exclaimed  Mackerley. 

"  It  does  not,"  said  Bonwit,  and  immediately  he 
proceeded  to  ring  up  headquarters,  and  got  the 
desk-sergeant  on  the  wire.  He  told  him  briefly 
who  he  was  and  what  he  wanted,  ending 
with : — 

"  Just  a  moment,  and  I'll  put  my  second  watch- 
man on,  and  he'll  tell  you  more  about  it." 


1 82  THE  CATSPAW 

After  the  desk-sergeant  had  despatched  his  re- 
serves, the  second  watchman  poured  forth  his  tale 
into  the  transmitter. 

"  And  the  man  I  saw,"  he  concluded,  "  was  Mr. 
St.  John,  and  no  mistake  about  it." 

"  You're  dreaming!  "  called  back  the  sergeant. 
"  Why,  Kittredge  St.  John  has  just  left  here !  " 

"  Just  left  where?  "  asked  Jim. 

"Just  left  headquarters;  he's  been  here  for 
half  an  hour." 

"  Half  an  hour?  Why,  it  was  not — it  could  not 
have  been  a  half-hour  ago  that  I  saw  him,  face 
to  face." 

"You  must  be  crazy!"  came  over  the  wire. 
"  I  tell  you  that  Kittredge  St.  John  has  been  here 
for  a  long  while,  and  he's  just  left.  Came  in  ex- 
pressly to  see  about  some  woman's  house  being 
protected  against  this  very  burglar  that  you're 
talking  about — came  in  with  a  man  named  Var- 
num,  and  they,  dress-suit  case  and  all,  left  to- 
gether." 

"  Dress-suit  case,  did  you  say?"  gasped  Jim. 

"  I  did.  He  had  a  real  alligator  one  at  that, 
with  the  best  kind  of  crocodile-skin  on  it  that  I 
ever  saw,"  responded  the  sergeant  good-naturedly. 


THE  KEYBOARD  CIPHER        183 

"Well,  I'll  be  !  Why,  that's  the  same 

suit-case  that  he  had  up  here." 

"  Anyhow,  the  reserves  are  on  their  way," 
wound  up  the  sergeant;  and  a  moment  more  and 
they  had  dashed  round  the  corner  and  were  going 
up  the  steps  of  the  bank.  Two  of  them  had  crept 
down  the  alley-way  and  covered  the  rear  windows 
of  the  bank  with  their  guns;  two  more  were  al- 
ready breaking  into  the  room. 

"  Turn  out  all  the  lights !  "  commanded  the  re- 
serves. "  He'll  be  in  the  dark,  and  we  don't  want 
to  be  targets." 

Then,  with  two  vigorous  assaults  upon  the 
door,  the  lock  snapped,  and  two  reserves  plunged 
tumultuously  into  the  room  beyond.  Much  to 
their  surprise,  it  was  as  light  as  day  within;  like- 
wise, much  to  their  surprise,  the  room  was  empty — 
there  was  no  one  there. 

One  of  the  reserves  immediately  climbed  up  to 
one  window  and  shook  the  bars;  the  bars  resisted 
— they  were  as  firm  as  a  rock.  He  stepped  to 
the  next  window  and  clutched  the  bars  on  that; 
with  a  rattle  and  a  crash,  they  fell  to  the 
floor. 

"Ahal  it's  the  same  trick,  done  by  the  same 


1 84  THE  CATSPAW 

man  that  did  up  the  Mordaunt  Bank!  And, 
what's  more,  he's  got  away  with  the  goods !  " 

"  Not  yet!  "  cried  Jim.  "  Do  you  know  where 
this  St.  John  said  he  was  going  when  he  left  head- 
quarters? " 

The  reserve  thought  a  moment. 

"  They  were  going  to  the  club,  I  believe  he 
said." 

"  Somebody  follow  him  and  get  that  dress-suit 
case !  "  exclaimed  Jim  excitedly.  "  That  dress- 
suit  case  has  got  the  goods !  " 

To  the  credit  of  the  town  of  M ,  be  it  said, 

that  so  well  did  they  proceed  about  their  busi- 
ness, that  one  of  the  reserves  intercepted  Mr.  Kitt- 
redge  St.  John  and  Mr.  Archie  Varnum,  as  the 
two  were  about  to  enter  the  Iroquois  Club. 

The  plain-clothes  man  detailed  to  do  this  duty 
watched  them  enter,  watched  St.  John  drop  his 
dress-suit  case  near  the  entrance,  and  watched  them 
pass  on  into  the  grill-room  of  the  club.  Then,  in 
the  absence  of  the  hall-boy,  and  with  some  swift 
trick,  known  to  plain-clothes  men  in  general,  and 
to  this  one  in  particular,  he  opened  the  dress-suit 
case  and  explored  its  recesses :  it  contained  nothing 
save  the  articles  for  which  it  had  been  originally 


THE  KEYBOARD  CIPHER         185 

intended — a  full  suit  of  evening  clothes,  serene 
in  their  blackness,  empty  as  to  pockets,  but  as  to 
any  of  the  bank-notes,  constituting  the  Western 
shipment  of  the  Manufacturers'  National  Bank, 
the  suit-case  was  as  guiltless  as  any  suit-case 
could  be. 

Back  in  the  bank,  Mackerley's  attention  had 
been  attracted  to  a  small  piece  of  paper  found  in 
the  room  in  which  the  burglar  had  taken  refuge. 
At  first  he  thought  it  was  a  bank-clerk's  memo- 
randum; but,  on  looking  closely  at  it,  he  found  it 
to  be  something  quite  different,  and  he  took  it 
hastily  to  Mr.  Bonwit. 

The  president  of  the  Manufacturers'  National 
looked  upon  something  that  read  like  this:— - 

Ndea  vpbj  npub  cpykr 
ibw  gybsews  rgiyapbs 
rwba  rqwbruwa  sewaa 
ayur  xpaw  ribufgr 

AQWWRGWPER. 

This  piece  of  paper  together  with  the  identifi- 
cation of  Jim,  the  second  watchman,  were  the  only 
things  which  would  serve  in  any  way  to  connect 
any  individual  with  the  burglary. 

The  following  morning,  Burke,  of  headquar- 
ters, appeared  at  Mr.  Bonwit's  office. 


1 86  THE  CATSPAW 

"  I  understand,"  said  Burke,  "  that  all  you've 
got  out  of  this  is  a  scrap  of  paper.  Let  me  see 
the  scrap." 

Bonwit  showed  it  to  him ;  Burke  merely  glanced 
at  it  for  a  second,  at  the  end  of  which  he  re- 
quested that  a  typewriter  be  brought  to  him,  that 
he  might  "  dope  out  "  the  contents  of  the  paper. 

"  The  first  and  second  words,  Mr.  Bonwit,"  he 
explained,  "  mean  Manufacturers'  Bank,  and  the 
rest  is  just  as  easy." 

"  How  do  you  know  ? "  asked  Bonwit,  sur- 
prised. 

"  I  suspected  as  soon  as  I  saw  it  that  some  one 
had  used  the  keyboard  cipher." 

"  Keyboard  cipher?  I've  heard  of  a  good  many 
ciphers,  but  I've  never  heard  of  that." 

Burke  smiled. 

''  Well,  there  are  not  many  people  who  know 
about  it,  but  I  happen  to.  It  was  invented  by  a 
woman  out  in  California.  It's  as  easy  as  falling 
off  a  log.  You  can  write  a  book  in  keyboard 
cipher,  and  any  typewriter  in.  the  world  can  read 
it,  but  mighty  few  can  ever  get  onto  it,  unless 
they  knew  there  was  such  a  cipher  kicking  around 
the  world.  Now,  look  here,  Mr.  Bonwit,"  he 


THE  KEYBOARD  CIPHER         187 

went  on,  "just  look  at  the  typewriter.  Do  you 
see  the  keys?  Take  a  mental  picture  of  the  ar- 
rangement of  the  keys." 

Mr.  Bonwit  took  a  mental  picture  of  the  ar- 
rangement of  the  keys,  and  that  mental  picture 
was  like  this : — 

QWERTYUIOP 

ASDFGHJKL 

Z  X  C  V  B  N  M 

"  All  you've  got  to  do,"  resumed  Burke,  "when 
you  want  to  use  the  standard  keyboard  cipher,  is 
to  write  out  your  message  correct  and  plain,  and 
then  go  over  it  again,  but,  instead  of  using  the 
letters  that  you  used  before,  use  each  time  the  let- 
ter just  ahead.  When  this  person  wrote  out 
'  Mfrs.'  for  Manufacturers,  and  translated  it  into 
the  cipher,  you  see  just  what  he  or  she  did.  N 
on  your  board  comes  ahead  of  M;  D  ahead  of  F; 
E  ahead  of  R;  and  A  ahead  of  S.  The  result 
is  you  get  '  Ndea  '  in  place  of  *  Mfrs.'  So  all  that 
you  have  got  to  do  is  to  take  the  letter  on 
the  machine  that  comes  after  each  one  in  this 
cipher,  and  we've  got  it.  You  can  work  it  out 
yourself." 


1 88  THE  CATSPAW 

And  Mr.  Bonwit  did  work  it  out  himself,  andr 
when  he  had  worked  it  out,  this  is  what  he  read : — 


Mfrs  bank  main  vault 
one  hundred  thousand  tens 
twenties  dress  suit  case  to-night 

SWEETHEART. 


As  he  was  working  it  out,  however,  Major  Hoi- 
brook  strolled  in  to  condole  with  him  upon  the 
robbery,  for  the  affair  had  filtered  into  the  ears 
of  a  few  of  the  president's  friends. 

"What  do  you  think  that  cipher  is?"  asked 
Mr.  Bonwit. 

The  Major  took  it  into  his  hands,  placed  it 
close  to  his  eyes,  and  stared  at  it  close  to  his 
glasses.  Suddenly  he  sniffed  the  air,  saying: — 

"  U'm,  blest  if  I  know.    What  is  it,  anyway?  " 

When  Major  Holbrook  left  the  bank,  he  still 
sniffed  the  air  as  he  asked  himself: — 

"Where  in  thunder  have  I  detected  that  per- 
fume before?  " 

Later,  at  the  Club,  Bonwit  turned  to  Oly- 
phant : — "  Do  you  think  St.  John  can  explain  these 
things?" 


THE  KEYBOARD  CIPHER         189 

Olyphant  slowly  shook  his  head.  "  The  police 
are  positive  of  his  guilt.  It  looks  queer  to  me. 
What's  your  opinion,  Major?  " 

Major  Holbrook  puffed  for  an  instant.  "  I've 
watched  every  case  closely.  I've  watched  St.  John. 
It  is  my  study  of  St.  John,  not  of  the  crimes,  that 
convinces  me  there's  something  queer  about  it. 
When  he's  himself,  I  believe  him  honest  as  the 
day  is  long.  But  he's  not  always  himself.  At 
times  he  seems  to  me  like  a  man  under  the  baleful 
influence  of  some  one  else — a  stronger  per- 
sonality." 

"Whose  personality?"  queried  Bonwit. 

The  Major  paused  before  replying.  "  I  think 
the  influence  of  a  woman." 

"  Miss  Paget's  influence  is  good,"  protested  Mr. 
Bonwit. 

The  Major  closed  his  eyes.  "  I  was  not  think- 
ing of  Miss  Paget,"  he  returned. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MRS.  SHACKLETON'S  MATCHED  PEARL  NECKLACE 

IN  her  studio  in  the  cupola,  Roxane  paced  irritably 
to  and  fro.  It  was  a  trifle  past  the  hour  that  St. 
John  was  due  at  "  The  Ivies  " — the  Olyphant 
homestead,  renamed  since  she  had  taken  up  her 
residence  there.  One  would  have  gathered  that  it 
was,  indeed,  a  welcome  guest  that  she  was  about 
to  entertain,  from  the  looks  of  a  small  table  amply 
provided  with  glasses,  cigarettes,  and  other  ar- 
ticles of  good  cheer;  but  not  so;  for,  a  few  mo- 
ments later,  St.  John,  stepping  lightly  through  the 
window,  found  her  in  a  difficult  mood,  and  her 
manner  towards  him  anything  but  that  with  which 
she  had  received  him  on  former  occasions. 

"  Roxane,"  he  said  at  length,  glancing  toward 
the  still  unfinished  portrait  of  Mr.  Bonwit,  "  I 
note  by  the  papers  that  the  well-executed  painting 
of  the  Manufacturers'  vault  door  was  done  upon 
a  canvas  that  was  purchased  in  San  Francisco." 
And,  swinging  Bonwit's  picture  about  with  its 

back  to  the  light,  he  added :  "  I  perceive  that  this 

190 


MRS.  SHACKLETON'S  NECKLACE     191 

one  came  from  New  York.   It's  just  as  well  for  us." 

Roxane  did  not  answer  him;  there  was  nothing 
in  her  that  responded  now  to  this  tone  of  levity; 
instead,  she  seated  herself  on  her  work-bench  and 
leaned  toward  him,  her  face  tense,  her  figure 
rigid,  her  clenched  hands  between  her  knees. 

"  Kitt,"  she  began,  "  I  sent  for  you." 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  bracing  himself  as  for 
some  expected  shock;  "  and,  as  usual,  when  you 
send  I  come." 

"  I  sent  for  you,"  she  went  on,  "  to  inquire  how 
long  you  intend  to  keep  up  this  affair  with  Doro- 
thy Paget?  Really,  I'll  not  stand  any  more  non- 
sense from  you.  My  mind  is  quite  made  up.  I'll 
put  you  to  the  test  ..." 

"  Put  me  to  any  test  you  will.  You  don't  seem 
to  understand,  Roxane,  that,  although  I  seem  to  be 
making  love  to  another  woman,  in  reality  I'm 
not." 

"  Please  don't  repeat  that — you've  said  it  al- 
ready too  many  times." 

"  Some  day  you  will  understand,"  he  said,  and, 
walking  over  to  the  table,  he  added  with  a  smile : 
"  You're  not  very  hospitable,  Roxane  1  Aren't 
you  going  to  .  .  .  ? " 


1 92  THE  CATSPAW 

"  Yes,"  she  broke  in  unexpectedly,  ignoring  his 
question,  "  and  I  mean  to  understand  in  a  day  not 
far  off;  a  day  fixed  and  definite." 

"What  day?"  he  asked,  helping  himself  to  a 
glass  of  Scotch  whiskey,  which  he  proceeded  to 
mix  into  a  highball. 

44  The  Tony  Shackletons'  fortnight  at  Range- 
ley." 

St.  John  started. 

44  Are  you  going  to  be  there?  "  he  inquired. 

44  Certainly.  And  you?  "  she  returned,  lighting 
a  cigarette  and  letting  the  smoke  come  slowly  from 
her  mouth. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  must  be  there,  but  not  for  two  or  three  days 
after  the  start." 

Roxane  raised  her  eyebrows. 

"Why  the  delay?"  she  asked,  biting  through 
her  cigarette  with  irritation. 

He  smiled  grimly. 

44  Everybody  in  town  that's  anybody  is  going 
to  be  there,  Roxane,  and  everybody  that's  any- 
body will  shut  up  his  town  house  for  the  occasion. 
That's  why  I  shall  be  a  trifle  late." 

44 1  begin  to  see,"  she  answered,  laughing  a  lit- 


MRS.  SHACKLETON'S  NECKLACE     193 

tie  stiffly.  "Every  town  house  will  yield  its  re- 
ward for  your  tardiness,  I  suppose."  There  was 
a  pause.  Presently  she  asked:  "Whose  town 
house  have  you  picked  out,  Kitt?" 

"  I  was  leaving  that  for  you  to  say,"  he  said 
briefly. 

'  You  honour  me.  And  yet  I  think  I  can  pick 
out  at  least  one  that  will  repay  you.  ..." 

"Whose?" 

"  That  I  shall  have  to  let  you  know  later. 
Meantime  " — and  she  leaned  once  more  toward 
him,  regarding  him  with  the  strange  expression  on 
her  face  with  which  she  had  welcomed  him  when 
he  came — "  meantime,  let  me  ask  you  a  question: 
You  know  Rangeley,  the  Tony  Shackletons'  coun- 
try place?" 

11  No,  I  don't." 

"  Well,  Rangeley  is  the  place  of  trysts — a  place 
where  many  matches  have  been  made.  I  warn 
you  right  here  against  any  trysts  with  anybody  but 
myself." 

St.  John  looked  down  at  her  quickly  and  caught 
a  glimpse  of  the  danger  that  lurked  in  her  eyes. 

"  It  will  be  a  sort  of  Eden  for  you  and  me," 
she  went  on  quietly.  "  When  every  one  is  away 


i94  THE  CATSPAW 

you  and  I  can  rove  unseen  through  the  wilder- 
nesses. It's  our  chance,  Kitt,  the  first  we  have  had 
since  " — she  drew  a  long  sigh — "  since — well, 
three  years  and  more  ago." 

"  But,  Roxie,  we  must  not  be  seen  together. 
Don't  you  see  I  can't  ..." 

"I  see,"  she  sneered;  "you  don't  want  Doro- 
thy Paget  to  .  .  . " 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind !  "  he  broke  in  hotly. 
"  You  don't  understand,  you  won't  understand 
that  ..." 

"  There's  just  this  about  the  matter,"  Roxane 
persisted  stubbornly,  "  if  you  can't  make  love  to 
me  openly,  then  I  shall  see  to  it  that  you  make 
love  to  no  one  else.  If  you  do,  what  happens  after- 
wards is  on  your  head." 

They — Roxane,  Tony  Shackleton,  and  Mrs. 
Tony — were  sitting  on  the  veranda  of  Oakleigh, 
the  country-seat  of  the  Shackletons  at  Rangeley, 
when  the  latter  suddenly  held  up  her  hands  and 
cried  out  excitedly: — 

"  Tony,  I've  done  a  most  tremendously  stupid 
thing!  I've  left  my  necklace  in  the  house  in 
town  I  " 


MRS.  SHACKLETON'S  NECKLACE     195 

"Which  necklace?"  demanded  Roxane,  with 
a  slight  twitch  of  her  eyelids. 

"  Why,  that  beautiful  matched  pearl  one  that 
Tony  gave  me !  I  should  have  put  it  in  the  safe- 
deposit  vault.  How  stupid  of  me  I  " 

"  But,"  ventured  her  husband,  with  unruffled 
calm,  "  you  did  lock  it  in  your  boudoir  safe,  I 
hope?" 

"  Most  assuredly,  yes,  that  part  is  all  right.  But 
boudoir  safes  are  no  longer  safe;  are  they,  Rox- 
ane? Especially  since  our  friend  Kitt  has  been  so 
active."  She  laughed  heartily. 

"  Poor  Kitt,"  sighed  Tony.  "  If  there  were 

a  dozen  murders  in  M ,  they  would  all  be  laid 

at  his  door,  and  just  because  a  couple  of  num- 
skull detectives  imagined  they  saw  him  rob  a 
bank." 

"  But  don't  you  think  it  wise,  my  dear,  to  go 
back  into  town  or  to  have  Tony  go  back  and  get 
the  necklace?"  inquired  Roxane,  with  studied 
concern. 

Tony  yawned. 

"Not  on  your  life!"  he  exclaimed  genially. 
"  I'm  too  comfortable  out  here  in  Rangeley  look- 
ing at  you,  my  dear  Roxane.  Besides,"  he  added, 


i96  THE  CATSPAW 

"  I  don't  know  Mrs.  Tony's  combination,  and, 
what's  more,  I  don't  want  to  know  it.  Why,  the 
town  would  be  accusing  me  next  of  stealing  my 
rich  wife's  jewels !  " 

Roxane  rose,  and,  seating  herself  on  the  wicker 
ottoman  next  to  Mrs.  Tony,  suggested  that  Mrs. 
Tony  either  go  back  and  remedy  the  fault  or  have 
her  servants  attend  to  the  matter. 

"  My  servants !  Why,  Roxane,  what  are  you 
thinking  of?  I  wouldn't  let  them  know  that  that 
necklace  was  in  my  bedroom  safe  for  the  world! 
I'll  take  a  chance  that  nothing  happens — nothing 
ever  happens  to  us;  does  it,  Tony  dear?  " 

"  I  jolly  well  wish  that  something  would  hap- 
pen to  us,"  grumbled  her  husband.  "  That  re- 
minds me,"  he  went  on,  "  when  is  Kittredge  St. 
John  going  to  confer  his  presence  on  us?  He'll 
wake  us  up,  dear  old  Kitt!  " 

"  Not  if  Dorothy  Paget  is  around,"  glibly  re- 
turned his  wife.  "  They'll  simply  take  themselves 
to  some  cosey  nook  and  never  leave  it  until — why, 
Kitt  used  to  have  some  life  in  him,  but  he  has 
no  eyes  and  no  voice  for  anybody  but  Dorothy. 
This  love-making,  Roxane,  is  a  wonderful  thing. 
Before  I  married  Tony,  I  .  .  . " 


MRS.  SHACKLETON'S  NECKLACE     197 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Roxane,"  broke  in  Tony, 
"  don't  you  fall  in  love !  .  .  . " 

The  widow  emitted  a  little  scream. 

"  Oh,  but  I  have,  haven't  I?  So  rumour  says, 
anyhow." 

'  You're  welcome  to  Bonwit,"  continued  Tony, 
"  if  you'll  only  be  yourself;  but  St.  John  certainly 
has  forgotten  that  he  lives." 

"  Life  with  him,  apparently,  is  one  grand  sweet 
dream,"  interposed  Mrs.  Tony. 

"  I'm  real  sorry  that  he's  coming  down,"  said 
Tony.  "  He'll  be  an  absent-minded  beggar  from 
the  moment  he  strikes  Oakleigh — that's  what 
he'll  be." 

It  was,  perhaps,  fifteen  minutes  later  that  Rox- 
ane excused  herself  and  sought  her  rooms  on  the 
next  floor.  Once  there  she  locked  her  door  and 
sat  down  at  a  little  desk  and  wrote  a  missive  all 
in  cipher,  which,  if  the  astute  Burke  had  laid  his 
eyes  upon — which  he  never  did, — would  have  been 
translated  thus: — 

Matched  Pearl  Necklace  worth  Fifty  Thousand,  if  a  cent, 
in  Mrs.  Tony  Shackleton's  boudoir.  The  safe  is  an  imita- 
tion medicine  chest  in  the  last  room  of  the  suite.  New 

design. 

SWEETHEART. 


i98  THE  CATSPAW 

"  So  much  for  the  bait,"  whispered  Roxane  to 
herself.  "  And  now,  Mr.  St.  John,  it's  for  you  to 
say  whether  I  shall  insert  the  hook.  It's  up  to 
you.  ..." 

Now  she  went  to  her  trunk  and  took  from  it  a 
bottle  of  violet  ink  and  a  very  small  gold  pen; 
and,  in  a  perfectly  disguised  hand,  she  wrote  the 
following : 


POLICE  HEADQUARTERS, 

Town  of  M . 

Gentlemen: — To-morrow  night,  at  nine  o'clock,  the  Tony 
Shackleton  house  will  be  robbed.  Kittredge  St.  John  will 
commit  the  robbery.  He  will  break  into  the  second-story 
window  in  the  rear — his  usual  method.  In  Mrs.  Shackle- 
ton's  bedroom  there  is  a  safe  in  which  is  a  matched  pearl 
necklace  worth  fifty  thousand  dollars.  St.  John  always  knows 
who  and  what  is  in  a  house — he  makes  no  mistakes  as  to 
that.  Therefore,  if  you  go  near  Shackletons'  to-day,  to-night, 
to-morrow,  or  to-morrow  night,  before  St.  John  is  within, 
you  will  make  a  mistake.  You  must  wait  from  a  distance — 
neighbouring  yards,  if  you  like.  Cover  every  side  of  the 
house  in  the  quietest  manner,  and  when  he  enters,  close  in 
upon  him.  The  Shackletons  are  not  at  home,  as  you  know. 
The  servants  are  alone.  There's  one  thing,  however,  that 
you  don't  know:  the  servants  in  that  house  entertain  their 
friends  to-morrow  night  below  stairs.  You  may  not  know 
how  much  they  will  drink — they  and  their  friends,  nor  what 
they  will  drink;  Kittredge  St.  John  knows  that  as  well  as 
that  at  nine  o'clock  his  field  will  be  clear. 


MRS.  SHACKLETON'S  NECKLACE     199 

The  hint  which  I'm  furnishing  you  costs  you  nothing  if 
you  take  it ;  it  may  cost  you  a  good  deal  to  disregard  it. 

X.  Y.  Z. 

Burke  laid  down  the  letter — for  it  reached  him 
and  he  read  it.  He  fairly  jumped  at  the  possi- 
bilities it  contained.  St.  John  had  become  his 
common  enemy.  Even  if  the  warning  were  only  a 
joke,  it  would  be  one  entirely  innocuous — for 
Burke  already  had  determined  to  take  the  advice 
of  the  unknown  adviser. 

"  The  first  thing  to  do,"  he  said  to  himself, 
becoming  suddenly  active,  "  is  to  surround  that 
Shackleton  house  with  eyes  that  see  and  ears  that 
hear,  but  that  are  unseen  and  unheard  by  any  one." 

The  task  proved  to  be  not  a  difficult  one.  For 
the  Tony  Shackletons  occupied  the  end  house  of 

what  the  town  of  M knew  as  "  The  Hill  " 

a  row  of  six  brown-stone  houses,  honeycombed 
with  huge  plate-glass  windows,  that  presented  to 
the  eye  a  phalanx  as  solid  and  invulnerable  as  the 
aristocracy  which  they  housed  within  their  walls. 

The  fateful  night  found  Burke,  by  methods  at 
which  he  was  an  adept,  satisfied  beyond  all  ques- 
tion that  there  was  no  stranger  within  the  Shackle- 
ton  gates.  So  that,  as  the  invisible  cordon  of  un- 


200  THE  CATSPAW 

seen  and  unheard  sleuths  surrounded  the  house, 
it  was  with  the  certainty  that  no  eye  could  enter 
there  without  their  knowledge. 

And,  as  the  evening  wore  on,  Burke  began  to 
realise  that  his  unknown  informant  knew  what  he 
or  she  was  talking  about.  In  the  basement  of  the 
Shackleton  house,  beginning  with  the  legitimate 
supper  hour,  sounds  of  revelry  were  heard.  Vis- 
itors were  there,  not  one  of  whom,  by  any  possi- 
bility, could  have  been  mistaken  for  Kittredge 
St.  John;  besides,  all  these  were  accounted  for 
later. 

As  nine  o'clock  approached,  the  unseen  cordon 
drew  nearer  to  the  house ;  and  still  there  was  noth- 
ing of  St.  John. 

Then,  all  of  a  sudden,  there  was  a  scream — a 
scream  that  came  from  one  of  the  rooms  that  con- 
stituted Mrs.  Shackleton's  suite;  and,  following 
the  scream,  a  window  was  thrown  open  and 
the  shrill  tones  of  a  housemaid  issued  there- 
from. 

"Murder!  Thieves!  Murder!  Police!  "cried 
this  young  woman  in  hysterical  tones. 

In  an  instant  Burke  was  on  the  second  floor, 
climbing  the  stairs  with  the  hilarious  group  of 


MRS.  SHACKLETON'S  NECKLACE     201 

house-servants,  who  were  somewhat  far  gone  in 
their  libations  of  the  evening. 

Darting  into  the  corridor  that  led  to  the  boudoir 
of  Mrs.  Shackleton,  Burke  met  the  housemaid, 
trembling,  laughing  hysterically,  weeping  slightly, 
and  still  shrieking  for  help.  He  caught  her  by 
the  arms  and  held  her  fast  and  spoke  to  her  in 
the  only  tone  that  can  conquer  hysterics — the  tone 
of  command,  of  rebuke. 

"  What  did  you  see,  girl?  "  he  said.  "  No  non- 
sense !  Tell  me — quick !  " 

The  girl  calmed  down  on  the  instant. 

"  There,"  she  said,  pointing  toward  the  inner 
room,  "  there — I  saw  him  as  he  opened  the  safe- 
saw  him  as  he  took  the  necklace  and  hid  it  in  his 
pocket.  I  saw  him  do  it  all!  .  .  ." 

Burke  literally  dragged  her  into  the  bedroom. 
There  was  no  doubt  about  it,  the  clever  thief  of 
the  town  of  M—  -  had  been  once  more  at  work. 
The  safe  door,  diminutive  as  it  was,  stood  ajar, 
and  the  safe  rifled  of  its  contents! 

"  You— you  saw  him  take  the  necklace?  "  ques- 
tioned Burke. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  girl.  "It  was  the 
Madam's  big,  white  pearl  necklace  ..." 


202  THE  CATSPAW 

"  An1  you  saw  him  put  it  in  his  pocket?  Quick 
now!" 

"  Yes,  yes,  it  was  him — it  was  St.  John — the 
man  that  .  .  ." 

Burke's  grip  tightened  upon  her  elbows. 

"  Are  you  sure  it  was  Kittredge  St.  John?  "  he 
demanded.  "  Come  now,  you're  positive  ?  .  .  . " 

"  Sure.    Don't  I  know  the  man?  " 

"  Let  no  one  leave  the  house !  "  roared  Burke. 
"  No  one  can  leave  the  house — my  men  have  sur- 
rounded it.  The  first  man  that  tries  to  get  away, 
gets  shot." 

For  a  moment  he  held  the  startled,  tipsy  serv- 
ants with  his  glance,  scanning  the  countenance  of 
each  in  turn;  then,  leaning  from  the  window,  he 
called  in  two  of  his  men,  and  together  they  ran- 
sacked the  house  from  top  to  bottom ;  and,  as  they 
ransacked  it,  the  truth  was  borne  in  upon  them 
that  the  burglar  had  been  at  work  for  many  mo- 
ments, possibly  hours.  For  not  only  had  he  looted 
the  safe,  but  he  had  ransacked  every  bureau 
drawer,  and  other  likely  receptacles.  The  whole 
house,  as  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  seemed  to 
have  been  turned  topsy-turvy;  and  yet,  search  as 
they  might,  they  could  not  find  the  culprit. 


MRS.  SHACKLETON'S  NECKLACE    203 

The  officers  were  completely  baffled. 

Burke  took  the  maidservant,  still  in  hysterics, 
down  to  headquarters  and  examined  her  thor- 
oughly, while  his  men  searched  every  servant  and 
guest.  When  it  was  all  over,  Burke  was  com- 
pelled to  admit  his  defeat. 

14  There's  not  a  ghost  of  a  doubt,"  said  Burke 
to  his  superior,  "  that  it  was  the  same  chap 
that  pulled  off  the  others!  But,  whether  it 
was  St.  John  or  not,  that's  another  question. 
But,  whoever  it  is,  I'll  get  him  yet  or  lose  my 
job." 

Burke,  in  person,  took  the  first  train  for  Range- 
ley  to  see  the  Tony  Shackletons.  Mrs.  Shackle- 
ton  was  inconsolable.  At  length  she  asked  the 
officer  what  were  his  reasons  for  believing  that 
Mr.  St.  John  was  responsible  for  the  act. 

"  It  can't  be  any  one  else,"  Burke  assured  her 
doggedly. 

"  Hold  on  here !  "  said  Shackleton,  after  a  mo- 
ment. "  What  time  did  this  happen?  " 

"  Some  time  before  nine  o'clock.  The  maid  saw 
him  just  about  the  stroke  of  nine,"  he  explained. 

"  It  might  have  happened  before,  though," 
suggested  Tony  Shackleton. 


204  THE  CATSPAW 

"...  any  time  between  seven  o'clock  and 
nine  o'clock  to-night,"  admitted  Burke. 

Shackleton  rose  and  closed  the  door. 

"  St.  John  is  a  friend  of  mine,"  he  said,  "  and, 
of  course,  to  me  this  sounds  mighty  prepos- 
terous. But,  as  the  saying  goes,  '  usually  where 
there's  smoke  there's  fire.'  '  There  was  silence 
for  a  moment;  then,  turning  an  inquisitorial 
glance  upon  his  wife,  Shackleton  went  on: 
"  My  dear,  where  was  St.  John  at  nine  o'clock 
to-night?" 

Mrs.  Tony  thought  for  some  time,  for  her 
mind,  somehow,  worked  slowly.  The  fact  is,  this 
quiet  conversation  was  being  held  in  the  wee  sma' 
hours  in  Tony's  den;  they  had  only  just  gone  to 
sleep  when  she  was  awakened  by  the  officer's 
arrival. 

"  Just  a  minute,  officer,"  she  said,  "  and  I'll  tell 
you.  ..." 

"  One  question,  Mr.  Shackleton,"  said  Burke. 
"  Was  St.  John  missing  at  any  time  durin'  the 
evenin'?" 

Shackleton  smiled  in  a  puzzled  sort  of  way. 

u  Why,  yes — that  is,  he  might  have  been.  I 
saw  him  take  his  machine  down  the  road  about 


MRS.  SHACKLETON'S  NECKLACE    205 

four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.    I  don't  remember 
him  later.    And  yet   ... " 

"  Now  I  have  it !  "  suddenly  cried  Mrs.  Tony. 
'  You  and  I,  Tony,  saw  Kittredge  with  some  one 
from  sundown  until   ..." 

'Where  did  we  see  him?"  broke  in  her  hus- 
band quickly. 

"  Come,  let  me  show  you,"  explained  Mrs. 
Tony,  leading  them  through  the  deserted  and 
dimly  lighted  halls. 

They  followed  her  to  the  big  living-room,  where 
she  pointed  to  a  corner  screened  by  an  artful  ar- 
rangement of  furniture. 

"  Now  you  remember,  Tony,  don't  you  ?  "  she 
went  on  in  positive  tones.  "  They  were  there  for 
hours.  Roxane  saw  them,  too.  We  talked  about 
it." 

"  You're  right — I  remember  now.  St.  John  and 
Miss  Paget  were  together  all  evening,  officer," 
confirmed  her  husband. 

"Could  he  have  done  it  in  the  afternoon?" 
suddenly  put  in  his  wife. 

Burke  slowly  shook  his  head. 

"  I  think  not,"  he  answered.  "  Of  course,"  he 
added,  "  he  could  have  been  to  town  and  back 


206  THE  CATSPAW 

here  in  no  time  with  that  car  of  his.  But  it's 
my  opinion  that  he  never  got  into  your  house 
in  the  afternoon.  You're  sure  that  he  was 
here  this  morning,  last  night,  and  the  night 
before?" 

"  I'm  sure  he  was,"  said  Mrs.  Shackleton. 
"  Just  a  moment,  if  you  please."  She  rang  a  bell; 
a  sleepy  servant  answered  it.  "  Gorman,"  said 
she,  "will  you  see  if  Mrs.  Bellairs  has  retired? 
If  not,  ask  her  to  step  here  very  quietly,  if  she 
will." 

Roxane  came  in  directly  and  submitted  to  an 
examination  by  Burke.  At  the  end  he  shook  his 
head,  saying: — 

'  You  knew  that  Mrs.  Shackleton's  town  house 
was  broken  into  to-night?  " 

"What's  that?"  answered  Roxane,  surprised 
out  of  herself. 

"  Was  broken  into  to-night,"  repeated  Burke 
quietly,  "  an'  a  beautiful  pearl  necklace  stolen  from 
the  safe  along  with  other  things — stolen,  as  I  be- 
lieve, by  Mr.  St.  John." 

There  could  have  been  nothing  in  the  world 
more  honest  than  the  glance  of  absolute  astonish- 
ment that  appeared  on  Roxane's  face. 


MRS.  SHACKLETON'S  NECKLACE     207 

"  I  can't  believe— surely  you  don't  think  it  was 
he  .  .  .  ? "  she  said. 

"...  never  surer  of  anything  in  my  life, 
madam,"  came  from  Burke. 

"  And  you  caught  him?  "  she  asked,  with  some- 
thing like  triumph  now  on  her  face;  but  her  coun- 
tenance fell  perceptibly  upon  the  officer's  reply. 

"Apparently  most  all  of  his  time  here  is  ac- 
counted for.  It's  a  puzzle.  An'  yet  I  insist  that 
he's  the  man  what's  got  the  goods." 

Mrs.  Bellairs  returned  to  her  rooms  with  venge- 
ful thoughts  in  her  heart  and  muttering  to  herself 
through  clenched  teeth : — 

"  How  did  you  get  away  from  me?  I  thought 
I'd  teach  you  a  lesson  that  you  would  not  soon 
forget.  I  thought  that  this  would  be  the  last 
time  that  you'd  give  Roxane  Bellairs  the  cold 
shoulder.  However,  you're  not  safe  yet,  Kitt- 
redge  St.  John,  never  fear." 

As  for  Tony  Shackleton,  he  ordered  out  the  big 
machine  and,  unknown  to  their  guests,  together 
with  Mrs.  Tony  and  Burke,  shot  back  into  town. 
With  Burke  at  their  heels,  they  entered  their  town 
house,  pressed  swiftly  through  room  after  room, 
examined  door  after  door  and  window  after  win- 


208  THE  CATSPAW 

dow,  put  their  servants  through  a  rigid  course  of 
examination,  and  ended  up  in  being  quite  as  mysti- 
fied as  was  Burke  himself. 

As  they  were  examining  the  last  room  at  the 
top  of  the  house,  something  caught  the  eye  of 
Mrs.  Shackleton.  She  had  switched  off  the  light 
in  this  room,  and  Burke  and  Tony  already  had 
left  it,  when  in  an  instant  she  switched  on  the  light 
again  and  called  them  back. 

"  One  moment,  officer,"  she  said.  "  Will  you 
help  Mr.  Shackleton  to  move  this  wardrobe?  I 
failed  to  look  behind  it." 

"  I  did,"  declared  Burke,  "  an'  there's  nothin' 
there  but  wall." 

"  I  know,  but  I  want  to  look  behind  it." 

With  many  groans  on  the  part  of  Tony  and  a 
few  swift  shoves  on  the  part  of  the  officer,  the 
wardrobe  was  moved  out ;  there  was  nothing  to  be 
seen  but  wall-paper. 

"  Why,  this  is  fresh  wall-paper,  Mr.  Burke," 
she  instantly  declared.  It  was  clear  to  her  that 
it  had  just  been  put  there.  "  Don't  you  see  how 
fresh  it  is?"  she  went  on,  examining  its  pattern 
with  the  eye  of  one  who  knew  its  former 
appearance. 


MRS.  SHACKLETON'S  NECKLACE     209 

Tony  laughed. 

4  Your  old  wardrobe  has  been  up  against  it 
and  kept  it  fresh,  my  dear.  The  rest  of  your 
room  is  faded  by  the  light." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I'm  satisfied  that  this  is  fresh  paper,"  she 
maintained  sturdily;  and,  going  over  to  it,  placed 
her  hand  not  only  upon,  but  clear  through  it.  It 
gave  way  like  a  shell,  or  like  what  it  was,  wall- 
paper without  any  wall  behind  it. 

Tony  looked  aghast. 

"  Good  Heavens,  what  does  it  mean?"  he  ex- 
claimed. 

With  a  quick  movement,  his  wife  tore  away  a 
handful  of  the  wall-paper,  and  Burke,  with  an- 
other quick  movement,  did  the  rest.  When  they 
had  finished,  there  appeared  before  them  a  new, 
clean  aperture  in  the  wall,  large  enough  to  admit 
the  body  of  a  child — large  enough  for  a  clever 
criminal,  if  he  were  clever  enough,  to  worm  his 
way  through. 

"  Where  does  it  lead?  "  asked  Burke. 

"  Why,  into  the  next  house,"  gasped  Mrs.  Tony. 

"  The  vacant  house  ?  "  asked  Burke. 

"  Vacant !  "  cried  Tony.    "  Yes,  it's  vacant,  but 


210  THE  CATSPAW 

the  Van  Cleves'  watchman  is  in  there,  has  been 
in  there  looking  after  the  stuff  that  they've  al- 
ready moved  in." 

"  Then,  the  watchman  must  have  done  this !  " 
declared  Mrs.  Tony.  "  Nobody  else  could.  .  .  ." 

Burke  turned  to  Shackleton. 

"  Mr.  Shackleton,"  he  said,  "  will  you  tell  a 
couple  of  my  men  to  come  here.  I  beg  pardon," 
he  quickly  corrected,  and  passed  out,  returning  in 
an  instant  with  his  assistants. 

An  instant  more  and  the  two  men  had  wriggled 
through  the  hole  in  the  wall.  Tony  tried  to  wrig- 
gle through,  but  failed  in  the  attempt — there  was 
too  much  of  him. 

Once  in  the  vacant  room,  Burke  and  his  men 
turned  their  lanterns  into  every  corner  and  upon 
the  debris  that  rested  underneath  the  hole.  There, 
piled  as  neatly  as  a  stack  of  chips,  were  the  bricks 
that  had  been  taken  from  the  wall  and  the  mortar 
that  had  held  them.  For  the  rest,  on  that  floor 
there  was  nothing  but  vacancy  and  darkness. 

Step  by  step,  with  drawn  revolvers,  Burke  and 
his  men  examined  every  inch  of  this  house  into 
which  the  Van  Cleves  had  already  begun  to  move ; 
they  found  the  first  lot  of  mahogany  furniture  on 


MRS.  SHACKLETON'S  NECKLACE     211 

the  first  floor,  but  that  was  all.  There  was  no 
watchman — in  fact,  they  never  found  the  watch- 
man. 

Burke  went  back  to  the  girl  who  had  screamed 
the  night  before. 

"  Girl,"  he  said  to  her,  "  you  know  St.  John 
when  you  see  him;  did  you  also  know  this  watch- 
man who  was  taking  care  next-door?" 

'  Yes,"  she  answered  breathlessly.  "  I  knew 
him,  all  right;  I've  seen  him  for  three  days." 

Burke  held  her  with  his  glance. 

"  Has  he  been  in  the  house  all  these  three 
days?  "  he  queried. 

"  Sure.     Everybody  will  tell  you  that." 

"  Did  he  look  like  St.  John?  "  went  on  Burke, 
although  he  knew  that  he  did  not. 

"Oh,  Lor',  no!"  returned  the  girl.  "Why, 
that  watchman  had  twice  as  big  a  beard  as  Mr. 
St.  John  and  twice  as  big  a  nose — besides,  he  was 
twice  as  big.  What's  more,  he  was  paralysed 
down  one  side.  Don't  you  know,  Mr.  Burke  ?  " 

"  I  do,"  replied  Burke,  going  carefully  over  the 
ground  in  his  mind;  and,  when  he  was  once  more 
alone,  he  blinked  his  eyes  in  uncertainty. 

"That  watchman  was  around  here  for  three 


212  THE  CATSPAW 

whole  days  and  night,"  he  told  himself.  "  An'  he 
can't  be  St.  John,  because  St.  John  was  down  at 
Rangeley.  On  the  other  hand,  that  watchman 
could  never  have  gotten  through  that  hole  up- 
stairs or  do  what  that  fellow  did  who  got  through 
that  hole."  He  shook  his  head  and  added,  never- 
theless, a  moment  later:  "  Burke,  you're  still 
bankin'  on  St.  John  1  " 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A   PURSUIT   IN   PRIVATE 

"  Miss  PAGET  is  not  at  home,  madam." 

The  footman  and  Roxane  faced  each  other  in 
the  spacious  hallway  of  the  Paget  house. 

"  Not  at  home !  "  returned  Roxane,  apparently 
annoyed,  although  it  was  because  she  knew  that 
Dorothy  would  not  be  at  home  that  she  had  called. 

"  But  I'm  sure  that  it  was  this  afternoon  we 
were  to  drive  to  .  .  ."  she  mused  in  distressed 
tones ;  and,  drawing  forth  from  her  bag  her  little 
note-book,  she  scanned  her  list  of  engagements. 
"  Yes,"  she  went  on,  nodding  with  certainty,  "  it 
was  this  afternoon.  One  of  us  has  made  a  mis- 
take." Presently  her  face  brightened,  and  she 
added:  "Perhaps  I'm  early— she  may  return  at 
any  moment.  Didn't  she  say  what  time  she'd 
return?" 

"Yes,  madam,"  replied  the  footman;  "she 
will  not  return  until  Thursday  afternoon.  Is  there 
anything  .  .  .  ? " 

Roxane  wrinkled  her  brow. 
213 


2i4  THE  CATSPAW 

"  I  think  not,"  she  responded,  "  though  you 
might  give  her  my  message — that  is,  no,"  she 
added  as  an  after-thought,  "  I  shall  write  her  di- 
rect to-night,  I  think." 

Whereupon  the  footman  retreated  to  a  silver 
salver  on  the  table,  took  from  it  a  card,  on  which 
appeared  a  pencilled  memorandum,  and  handed  it 
to  her,  remarking: — 

"This  is  Miss  Paget's  address;  she  is  staying 
with  her  cousin  there." 

Roxane  copied  the  memorandum  literally,  which 
read  merely  as  follows: 

Care  of  Belleporte  Inn,  Stormhaven,  Conn. 

Returning  to  her  victoria,  Roxane  gave  a  brief 
direction;  and,  ten  minutes  later,  she  was  standing 
at  Mrs.  Shackleton's  reception-room  door,  being 
greeted  by  that  lady. 

"  Our  afternoon  to  drive,  dear,"  said  Roxane. 
"Had  you  forgotten?" 

"  Forgotten !  "  echoed  Mrs.  Tony.  "  I  thought 
you  were  never  coming.  I've  been  ready  for  at 
least  half  an  hour." 

Roxane  drew  forth  her  little  note-book,  and 
said : — 


A  PURSUIT  IN  PRIVATE         215 

"  Possibly  I  am  late,  but  I  always  keep  appoint- 
ments— you  will  acknowledge  that.  My  little 
book  never  makes  mistakes." 

"  I  grant  you  that,  Roxane,"  conceded  Mrs. 
Shackleton. 

"  It's  awfully  good  of  you  to  come,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Bellairs;  "I  want  cheering  up." 

"  So  do  I,"  responded  her  guest,  "  and  nobody 
has  come  around — not  even  Dorothy.  Indeed,  I 
haven't  seen  her  for  days  and  days.  She  can't 
be  at  home." 

Roxane  looked  her  astonishment  as  she  said: — 

"  I  didn't  know  that  she  was  away." 

"  Even  Kittredge  St.  John  seems  to  have  ef- 
faced himself  lately,"  went  on  Mrs.  Tony.  '*  We 
like  him  immensely  and  he  dines  with  us  when  he 
can ;  but  Tony  hasn't  been  able  to  rake  him  up  for 
nights." 

The  fascinating  Mrs.  Bellairs  smiled  a  polite 
little  smile,  and  observed: — 

"  Kittredge  St.  John  is  always  an  unknown 
quantity ;  he  is  here  one  minute  and  gone  the  next. 
One  never  knows  where  to  put  one's  finger  on 
him,  so  it  seems." 

She  was  quite  right.     For  days  she  had  stifled 


216  THE  CATSPAW 

an  overwhelming  passion  to  see  him,  to  hear  his 
voice,  to  feel  his  eyes  upon  her,  until  the  sus- 
pense had  become  unbearable.  It  was  this  sus- 
pense that  had  driven  her  to  Dorothy's  threshold ; 
and  the  information  derived  there  had  confirmed 
her  fears.  She  had  written  to  Kittredge,  she  had 
called  him  up;  but  there  was  no  answer  to  her 
letters,  and  the  message  over  the  wire  had  be- 
come monotonous:  "Mr.  St.  John  is  nowhere  in 
the  house."  At  last  the  conviction  had  forced  it- 
self upon  her  that  he  was  nowhere  within  the 
town. 

"  To  find  out — to  find  out  for  sure,"  thought 
Roxane  to  herself,  and  the  phrase  kept  ringing 
through  her  head  all  during  her  drive  with  Mrs. 
Tony,  whose  conversation,  fortunately,  was  of 
the  kind  that  required  but  little  response,  for  that 
lady's  method  of  cheering  herself  up  was  to  find 
a  good  listener;  and  Roxane,  on  this  occasion,  cer- 
tainly answered  the  purpose,  if  silence  be  synony- 
mous with  listening. 

But  the  drive  ended  at  last.  Mrs.  Tony  ex- 
pressed herself  as  being  once  more  toned  up;  and 
Roxane  hied  herself  to  "  The  Ivies,"  locked  her- 
self in  a  room,  and  began  to  plan  things. 


A  PURSUIT  IN  PRIVATE         217 

14  To  find  out  for  sure,"  she  said  aloud,  consult- 
ing a  long  list  of  addresses  with  which  Kitt  had 
once  furnished  her.  Finally  she  selected  The  Dav- 
enport Detective  Agency,  140  Broadway,  New 
York.  To  be  sure,  it  was  the  first  time  she  had 
ever  thought  of  enlisting  aid  of  this  legitimate 
character — men  of  this  ilk,  in  general,  were  her 
traditional  enemies  as  well  as  Kitt's — and  the  list 
which  he  had  furnished  was  for  purposes  of  eva- 
sion, and  not  employment.  However,  that  made 
the  thing  seem  to  her  all  the  safer. 

She  immediately  sat  down  and  wrote  a  telegram 
to  the  detective  agency.  It  read  as  follows: — 


Meet  me  your  office  ten  o'clock  to-night. 

MRS.  X. 


Before  sending  it,  however,  she  decided  upon  a 
preliminary  course  of  conduct.  She  sat  down  at 
her  telephone  and  called  up  Kitt's  apartment- 
house. 

"  Wait  a  minute,  I'll  connect  you,"  said  the  boy 
at  the  other  end. 

"  Is  he  there?  "  she  demanded. 

"  Don't  know— but  I'll  connect  you,  anyway," 
returned  the  boy. 


2i 8  THE  CATSPAW 

He  did  so;  and,  much  to  her  surprise,  a  voice 
broke  in  immediately  upon  the  wire — a  voice  that 
she  could  have  sworn  was  Kitt's. 

"  Hello— who's  this?  "  he  called. 

Roxane  did  not  answer.  She  was  not  certain 
just  what  to  do;  moreover,  the  wire  buzzed  badly. 
If  it  were  Kitt's  voice,  and  if  Kitt  were  at  the 
other  end,  well  and  good.  She  felt  sure  that  he 
would  come  to  her  if  she  asked  him  to.  And 
yet,  that  wouldn't  satisfy  the  doubts  within 
her.  The  little  devils  kept  pronging  her, 
and  immediately  her  rich  soprano  voice  swung 
into  an  alto. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  Mr.  St.  John,"  she  said. 

Kitt's  voice — she  was  sure  it  was  Kitt's  now — 
answered : — 

"  Why,  he's — in  fact,  he's  out  of  town." 

"  Can  you  tell  me  where?  " 

There  was  an  instant's  hesitation  at  the  other 
end  of  the  wire,  and  then  her  question  was  an- 
swered with  a  question. 

"  Who  is  this  inquiring,  if  you  please?  " 

'  This  is  Miss  Paget  talking,"  said  Roxane. 

Something  like  an  exclamation  seemed  to  drift 
over  the  wire,  and  then  went  on  the  voice : — 


A  PURSUIT  IN  PRIVATE         219 

1  That's  funny,  Miss  Paget— I  beg  your  par- 
don, but  Mr.  St.  John  has  been  away  for  several 
days,  and  ..." 

"  Can  I  reach  him  by  letter?"  asked  Roxane, 
now  thoroughly  convinced  that  Kitt  was  talking 
to  her. 

"  He's  somewhere  in  Connecticut,  Miss  Paget." 

"Not  at  Stormhaven?" 

14  Why,  yes,  I  believe  that  is  the  place." 

"  He's  not  at  the  Belleporte  Inn?"  again  que- 
ried Roxane,  her  tones  still  well  disguised. 

"That's  the  place,  Miss  Paget,"  returned  the 
voice. 

Roxane  threw  discretion  to  the  winds. 

"  That's  queer — very  queer,"  she  murmured. 
"  Why,  I'm  at  the  Belleporte  myself,  and  I  haven't 
seen  anything  of  Mr.  St.  John." 

"The  deuce  you  say!"  cried  Kitt's  voice. 
"Why,  are  you  sure?"  Some  strange  emotion 
seemed  to  agitate  the  well-modulated  voice,  and 
Roxane  took  quick  note  of  it.  "  Aren't  you  mis- 
taken, Miss  Paget  ?  "  he  went  on.  "  I'm  quite 
sure  that  Mr.  St.  John  has  been  there— is  there 
now;  aren't  you?  " 

The  last  two  words  disturbed  Roxane's  equa- 


220  THE  CATSPAW 

nimity;  moreover,  they  seemed  ironical,  though, 
perhaps,  they  were  not  intended  to  be. 

"  Not  quite  sure,"  she  answered  crisply. 

"  Because,"  went  on  Kitt,  "  I  had  him  on  the 
wire  at  the  Belleporte  not  five  minutes  ago. 
Really,  is  this  Miss  Dorothy  Paget — or  some 
other  Miss  Paget?  " 

"  It's  Miss  Paget,"  returned  Roxane  icily. 
"  But,  pray,  who  are  you?  " 

There  was  no  hesitation  at  the  other  end. 

"  This  is  the  day  clerk,"  said  the  same 
voice. 

Roxane  rang  off.  She  was  in  a  rage  not  only 
with  herself,  but  with  Kitt.  Why  had  she  done 
this  thing?  Had  Kitt  recognised  her  voice?  Was 
he  making  fun  of  her?  What  did  it  all  mean, 
anyway  ? 

"  I'll  call  him  up  again,  at  any  rate,"  said  Rox- 
ane to  herself,  "  and  tell  him  who  I  am,  and  have 
it  out  with  him." 

Again  she  got  the  apartment-house  on  the  wire, 
and  again  the  boy  answered  and  said  he  would 
connect  her,  which  he  did.  But  this  time  without 
result — there  was  no  Kitt  at  the  other  end  of  the 
wire. 


A  PURSUIT  IN  PRIVATE         221 

"  Can't  get  him,"  said  the  boy.  "  It's  no 
use  .  .  ." 

;'  There  is  use,"  retorted  Roxane,  now  quite  des- 
perate, "  and  I'm  sure  he's  there.  Try  again." 

The  boy  tried  again  and  again,  but  with  the 
same  result. 

"  Give  me  the  clerk,  then,"  said  Roxane. 

Whereupon  the  clerk  came  to  the  'phone,  and, 
to  Roxane's  dismay,  his  voice  was  as  different  from 
the  voice  of  Kitt  as  the  night  is  from  the  day. 
The  day  clerk  also  tried,  but  also  failed  in  getting 
Mr.  St.  John. 

"  He's  not  in  the  house,  madam,"  at  length  he 
informed  her;  "  and,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  think 
he's  out  of  town,  though  he  may  be  back  at  any 
time.  Who  shall  I  say  called  him  up,  please?  " 

"  Don't  say,"  was  Roxane's  enigmatic  answer, 
and  rang  off. 

A  moment  later  she  sent  her  telegram  to  New 
York.  It  was  ten  o'clock  to  the  second  when  a 
heavily  veiled  woman  entered  the  building  at  No. 
140  Broadway,  New  York.  She  had,  indeed, 
chosen  well  the  place  and  time.  Broadway  was 
deserted,  and,  save  for  the  light  in  the  three  win- 
dows of  Davenport's  Detective  Agency  on  the 


222  THE  CATSPAW 

third  floor  at  No.  140,  that  building  also  was 
practically  deserted.  The  elevators,  of  course, 
were  not  running,  and  Roxane  slowly  climbed  the 
steps.  She  was  glad  to  do  so,  for  it  gave  her  voice 
a  breathless  tinge  when  she  reached  the  office. 
Once  inside,  however,  she  glanced  about  her 
anxiously,  but  was  quite  reassured  when  she  noted 
that  but  one  man  occupied  the  office — a  man  at  a 
desk  in  a  far  corner,  one  that  she  had  never  seen 
before.  The  man  was  half-asleep,  and  it  was  quite 
apparent  that  he  had  stayed  there  for  one  pur- 
pose only:  to  see  her,  in  accordance  with  her 
telegram. 

The  man  placed  a  chair,  and  said  as  he  looked 
her  over : — 

"  Have  a  seat,  lady." 

Roxane  seated  herself,  but  did  not  lift  her  veil. 

''  What  can  we  do  for  you?  "  queried  the  man. 

Roxane  did  not  answer  at  once.  In  fact,  for 
the  first  time,  her  purpose  began  to  flag. 

"  I — I  hardly  know  how  to  tell  you,"  she  an- 
swered in  a  voice  filled  with  agitation.  "  Let  me 
think  a  little." 

Then,  step  by  step,  she  went  over  the  ground, 
knowing  full  well  that  what  she  was  doing  held 


A  PURSUIT  IN  PRIVATE         223 

not  only  danger  for  Kitt,  but  danger  for  herself 
as  well — the  danger  in  directing  the  attention  of 
a  detective  upon  her  and  Kitt.  And  yet,  it  was 
better  to  have  the  suspense  over;  she  couldn't  go 
back  to  the  hours  of  anguish;  she  must  go  on. 

She  drew  forth  a  photograph  and  passed  it  to 
Davenport's  man. 

"  Do  you  know  that  man?  "  she  asked. 

She  watched  his  face  carefully  for  any  sign  of 
recognition,  and  sighed  with  relief  when  there  was 
none. 

"  No,  I  certainly  do  not,"  returned  the  other. 

Roxane  produced  her  purse. 

"  I  am  willing  to  pay,"  she  began. 

The  man  nodded. 

"  You  want  unusual  secrecy,  I  understand." 

"  Yes.  If  I  am  right,  it  won't  matter  so  much, 
perhaps,  but  if  I  am  wrong  ..." 

"  In  either  case  you  can  trust  me.  We've  got 
a  man  who  was  intended  for  a  clam,  he's  so  tight. 
But  where  do  we  pick  up  the  clue?  " 

"  There's  nothing  difficult  about  that,"  went  on 
Roxane.  "The  man  is  supposed  to  be  at  The 
Belleporte,  Stormhaven,  Conn.  He  will  probably 
be  there  until  Thursday  of  this  week." 


224  THE  CATSPAW 

The  detective  poised  his  pencil  delicately  in  the 
air. 

"  With  a  lady?  "  he  queried  pleasantly  and  pro- 
fessionally, for  he  assumed  this  to  be  a  matter  of 
divorce. 

"  That  is  immaterial,"  returned  Roxane  shortly. 
"  What  I  want  is  this :  I  want  your  man  to  go 
there — stay  there — find  him  there,  if  he  can.  If 
he's  there,  then  your  man  must  stick  to  him  like  a 
leech — know  his  every  movement  until  he  comes 
back." 

"  Our  man  was  cut  out  for  a  leech,"  commented 
the  detective. 

"  Let  me  warn  you  about  one  thing,"  said  Rox- 
ane; "  this  man  you  are  about  to  follow  is  sharper 
than  any  man  on  your  whole  force — make  no  mis- 
take about  that.  Moreover,  your  man  must  never 
be  suspected;  he  will  be  tricked  if  he  is.  He  must 
be  invisible.  .  .  ." 

"  Madam,"  said  the  detective  impressively, 
"  he's  a  cross  between  a  shadow  and  a  ghost. 
We'll  fix  it  for  you.  Where  do  we  re- 
port?" 

Roxane  had  a  private  telephone  number  and  a 
private  wire  in  M .  And  much  as  she  would 


A  PURSUIT  IN  PRIVATE         225 

have  preferred  to  keep  her  whereabouts  unknown, 
nevertheless  she  gave  this  number  to  the  agency. 

"  And  there's  one  other  thing,"  she  added,  just 
before  leaving;  "  you  want  the  fastest  car  in  town. 
This  man  has  a  machine  that  is  part  and  parcel 
of  him.  He  is  here  one  instant,  and  the  Lord  only 
knows  where,  the  next." 

"  What  make  is  his  car?  "  queried  the  detective. 

"  I  couldn't  tell  you,"  faltered  Roxane,  with 

memories  of  Champenois  et  Cie.  lingering  in  her 

mind.    "  But— but  it's  a  racer— a  very  rapid  one." 

The  detective  grunted. 

"  We've  got  a  car  that's  a  cross  between  a  flash 
of  lightning  and  a  wireless  message.  It'll  do- 
believe  me— there  ain't  no  car  that  can  beat  it." 

"  What  make  is  it?  "  asked  Roxane,  eyeing  the 
agent  curiously. 

The  detective  flipped  the  photograph  over  on 
its  face,  and  then  he  answered. 

"  It's  a  Hermes,  made  by  Champenois,"  he  in- 
formed her,  as  he  bowed  her  out.  "  Our  man  gets 
on  the  job  to-night,  and  reports  to  you  twice  a 
day.  Good-night  I  " 

The  following  day  Roxane  received  a  telephone 
message  over  her  private  wire. 


226  THE  CATSPAW 

"  We've  reckoned  up  your  man,"  said  a  voice, 
so  like  the  voice  of  the  man  in  the  Davenport  of- 
fice that  she  wondered  if  he,  himself,  was  the  clam 
and  the  leech  and  the  cross  between  the  shadow 
and  the  ghost.  "  Looks  just  like  the  picture. 
Spotted  his  car — can't  tell  its  make." 

"  That's  the  man,"  quickly  returned  Roxane. 
"And  where  is  he?" 

"  Playing  tennis  on  the  grounds  with  a  Miss 
Paget.  He's  with  her  most  of  the  time;  eats  at 
her  table  at  the  Inn;  golfs  with  her;  rides  with 
her." 

"  How  long  has  he  been  there?  " 

"  Long  as  she  has;  at  least,  that's  the  report  I 
get  from  a  dozen  different  sources." 

Roxane's  mind  went  back  to  her  last  telephone 
conversation  with  Kitt's  apartment. 

"  Has  he  been  there  all  the  time  ?  "  she  queried. 

"  My  report  is  that  he  has,  but  I'm  not  quite 
sure.  His  blamed  car  is  in  use  off  and  on — and 
it  ain't  everybody  that  knows  about  his  move- 
ments." 

Roxane  was  not  satisfied,  and  she  asked : — 

"  But  was  he  there  all  day  yesterday — after- 
noon and  evening?  " 


A  PURSUIT  IN  PRIVATE         227 

"  I'm  pretty  sure  he  was,"  returned  the  sleuth. 
'  Tell  you  how  it  was :  his  car  went  out  about 
five — him  and  the  girl.  Lots  of  other  cars  went 
out,  too.  Crowd  went  over  to  the  Lodge  for  sup- 
per— his  car  getting  there  about  five-thirty, 
and,  so  far's  the  car's  concerned,  it  stayed  there 
until  eleven-thirty,  and  then  he  drove  the  girl  home. 
Meantime  ..." 

'Yes,    what    of    him?"    came    eagerly    from 
Roxane. 

"  Accounts  differ.  Some  of  the  waiters  saw 
him ;  others  missed  him  at  odd  times.  But  there's 
lots  of  balconies  and  such — ever  been  to  the  Lodge 
out  here?  I  know  it  like  a  book,  and,  whether  he 
was  in  the  Lodge  or  out  of  it  off  and  on,  can't  say. 
But  he  did  take  the  girl  there  and  bring  her  away. 
I  got  here  at  four  this  morning,  and  I'm  looking 
at  him  now." 

There  were  other  reports  during  the  day,  ail 
more  or  less  of  the  same  nature.  And  there  was 
no  question  but  that  Kitt  St.  John  had  taken  ad- 
vantage of  opportunity — was  playing  freely  a 
double  game  with  herself  and  Dorothy  Paget !  She 
had  gone  so  far  in  her  private  conversation  with 
Davenport's  man  as  to  inquire  specifically  into  evi- 


228  THE  CATSPAW 

dences  of  the  sentimental  attitude  of  the  man  un- 
der surveillance.  Davenport's  man  had  said,  with 
the  ring  of  truth  in  his  voice,  that  every  day  he 
had  seen,  while  looking  down  a  woodland  path 
near  the  Inn,  what  appeared  to  be  at  one  time  a 
kiss,  and  at  another  time  a  kiss  and  a  hug. 

"  Which,"  confided  Davenport's  agent,  "  ain't 
just  the  way  a  married  man  should  act  when  he's 
away  from  home.  I'll  leave  it  to  you,  Mrs.  St. 
John,  if  it  is?" 

Roxane  silently  agreed  with  him,  but  informed 
him,  curtly,  that  she  was  not  Mrs.  St.  John,  and 
that  it  was  immaterial  as  to  whether  Mr.  St.  John 
was  a  married  man. 

"However,  there's  one  thing  that  I  want  to 
know.  How  long  does  it  take  from  New  York  to 
Stormhaven?"  she  asked. 

"In  a  Hermes?" 

"  Yes." 

"  I  did  it,  early  morning,  in  an  hour." 

Roxane  was  puzzled. 

''  There  must  be  something  about  Kitt's  car," 
she  told  herself,  "  that  I  don't  understand.  More- 
over, there's  something  about  him  that  I'll  never 
understand,  either." 


A  PURSUIT  IN  PRIVATE         229 

It  was  on  Wednesday  morning  that  she  got 
a  hurried  ring,  and  the  agent's  voice  sounded  once 
more  in  her  ear. 

"They're  off  to  Boston,"  he  said  breathlessly; 
"  him  and  the  girl  in  his  car,  and  some  cousins 
in  another  car.  They're  going  to  spend  to-night 
and  part  of  to-morrow  at  the  Touraine;  then  to 
Brookline  for  a  few  hours,  and  after  that  home. 
Good-bye!  I'm  off  in  the  Hermes  to  reckon 
them  up !  " 

Three  hours  later  there  was  another  hurried 
ring,  and  a  voice  still  more  breathless  commanded 
her  attention. 

"  This  is  Davenport's  man,"  gasped  the  voice. 
"  I'm  having  hard,  hard  luck,  lady— chased  'em  all 
right,  fine,  until  they  swung  onto  the  Boston  road 
—they're  on  it  now  somewhere's  away  ahead— a 
bunch  of  'em,  with  his  car  in  the  lead!  But  I've 
been  walking  for  eight  miles  steady." 

"Walking?"  she  echoed. 

"  Yes,  Hermes  broke  down— worked  like  Satan 
to  fix  it,  but  couldn't.  Other  cars  stopped  and 
tried  to  fix  it,  too,  but  nobody  could— and  there 
was  not  a  telephone  for  miles.  Just  got  here, 
however,  and  'phoned  to  let  you  know  that  I  was 


230  THE  CATSPAW 

still  game.  I'll  pick  up  the  trail  at  the  Touraine 
in  Boston  to-night,  sure,  and  call  you  up  again. 
I'll  have  to  take  a  train  in  unless  I  can  get  another 
car,  you  see." 

Roxane  was  beside  herself. 

"  Be  sure  you  get  the  trail  again !  "  she  cried. 

For  a  long  time  after  she  had  hung  up  the  re- 
ceiver, Roxane  sat  musing  upon  the  certainty  that 
Kitt  had  fastened  his  affections  upon  Dorothy 
Paget;  and,  as  she  sat,  she  became  conscious  of  a 
peculiar  sensation  that  she  was  not  alone.  She 
looked  uncertainly  about  her,  but  nothing  was  un- 
usual; then  suddenly  in  the  cupola  above — for  the 
cupola  was  directly  over  her  boudoir — she  heard 
the  stealthy  footsteps  of  a  man — at  least,  she 
thought  she  did — and  started  for  the  winding 
staircase  in  the  next  room,  to  determine  whether 
any  one  might  be  above;  but,  before  she  reached 
it,  the  telephone  bell  called  her  back. 

"  Lady,  lady,"  called  the  sleuth's  voice  over 
the  wire,  "  good  news,  good  news !  I  'phoned 
ahead  to  find  out  where  they  were,  and  what  do 
you  think?  One  of  their  cars  broke  down  on 
ahead,  about  two  hours  or  more  ago !  " 

"  His  car?  " 


A  PURSUIT  IN  PRIVATE         231 

"No,  somebody  else's,  and  the  whole  crowd 
stopped  and  are  trying  to  fix  it.     They're  at  it 


now." 


"  Is  he  at  it  now,  also?  " 

"The  report  I  get  is  that  the  whole  crowd  is 
stopped,  so  I  suppose  he's  stopped,  too." 

"  Follow  them  as  soon  as  you  can — keep  him 
in  sight !  "  cried  Roxane  quite  aloud,  and,  hanging 
up  the  receiver,  started  to  go;  but,  as  she  did  so, 
she  started  back  in  fright,  for  a  man  was  standing 
at  her  side. 

"  Keep  whom  in  sight?  "  queried  the  man  pleas- 
antly. "  What  are  you  up  to  now,  Roxane,  my 
dear?" 

Roxane  clutched  his  arm  to  see  if  he  was  real, 
for  the  man  was  none  other  than  Kittredge  St. 
John! 

"  Just  dropped  in  to  make  you  a  little  call,"  he 
said.  "  I'm  glad  to  find  you  in." 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  LEOPARD'S  SPOTS 

NOTWITHSTANDING  that  Miss  Dorothy  Paget 
kept  with  her,  as  a  companion,  an  aged  aunt,  she 
was  the  mistress  of  her  own  home,  where  she  en- 
tertained, not  lavishly  but  very  well.  Consequently, 
on  her  reception  nights  her  house  was  sure  to  be 
crowded.  However,  with  the  exception  of  one 
large  reception,  St.  John  had  never  attended  any 
of  her  functions,  pleading  always  some  excuse ;  and 
it  was  with  some  little  difficulty  that  she  finally 
prevailed  upon  him  to  attend  her  last  little  din- 
ner of  the  season. 

The  dinner  was  about  half-over.  People  had 
begun  to  talk  volubly — as  they  always  do  once  the 
ice  is  broken  and  their  appetites  have  somewhat 
abated. 

"  It's  absurd !  "  one  man  was  saying.  "  The  po- 
lice claim  they  can't  stop  it!  But  they  don't  put 
a  stop  to  it  for  the  reason  that  they  don't  half  try. 
Why,  Tony  Shackleton's  makes  the  fifteenth  on 

the  list !    And  who  knows  how  many  never  come 

232 


THE  LEOPARD'S  SPOTS          233 

to  light  1  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  it  were  the  same 
fellow,  for  he  works  in  the  self-same  way  every 
time.  By  George,  I'd  ..." 

"Well,"  broke  in  another,  "the  banks  have 
got  several  parties  under  surveillance,  and 
I'm  told  they've  narrowed  it  down  to  one 

man." 

"And  then  again  they  say,"  interposed  an- 
other, "  that  that's  all  tommyrot— that  they  haven't 
found  him,  after  all." 

"  I  suppose,"  volunteered  a  woman,  turning  to 
St.  John,  "you've  heard  about  Mrs.  Bradley- 
Coates,  haven't  you,  Mr.  St.  John?  " 

St.  John  shook  his  head. 

«  I  rarely  read  the  papers,"  he  told  her,  with 
some  embarrassment,  "  and  I-I  really  have  heard 
but  little  about  anything  of  interest  in  the  . 
My  time  is  so  taken  up  that  I  have  little  < 

give  to  the  daily  news  .    .    • 
'  «0h  it  wasn't  in  the  newspapers!  "interrupted 

the  woman.     '<  They  kept  it  out.     It  was  one 
night,  about  a  week  ago,  as  Mr.  and  Mrs  Bradley- 
Coates  were  eating  dinner  in  their  own  house 
their  own  house,  mind  you  1  "-this  as  though 
Would  have  been  quite  a  matter  of  course  had  I 


234  THE  CATSPAW 

been  in  somebody  else's  house.  "  While  they  were 
eating  dinner,  they  heard  some  sort  of  a  noise 
outside,  and,  as  she  looked  over  her  husband's 
shoulder,  there  was  a  man's  face  staring  into  the 
room.  She  couldn't  see  the  face  well,"  she  went 
on  excitedly,  "  because  his  coat-collar  was  turned 
up,  and  the  lower  part  was  entirely  concealed. 
Anyhow,  he  disappeared.  They  called  the  serv- 
ants and  raised  an  alarm,  and  by  that  time,  of 
course,  he  had  gotten  well  away.  Later,  however, 
they  found  the  ivy  vine  on  the  side  of  the  house 
all  torn  and  broken  and  the  marks  of  feet  around 
the  window.  That's  all — they  never  found  him, 
nor  .  .  ." 

"  And  nothing  was  taken?  "  spoke  up  some  one 
incredulously. 

The  woman  smiled;  she  had  been  waiting  for 
that  inquiry. 

"  Nothing  much,"  she  replied,  "  only  every  bit 
of  jewelry  that  Mrs.  Bradley-Coates  had  in  the 
house — and  you  know  what  that  means.  You  know 
how  much  she  wore!  Nobody  knows  how  much 
they  were  worth — certainly  a  fortune  in  them- 
selves." She  stopped  suddenly.  "  Why— why, 
Ethel,  what's  the  matter?" 


THE  LEOPARD'S  SPOTS          235 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  a  girl-guest  tremulously,  her 
face  growing  paler  every  second,  "  I'm— I'm  so 
frightened !  Just  as  you  were  talking  I  looked  at 
the  window,  and  there,  outside — there — there — 
there  ..."  She  pointed  wildly  with  her  hand, 
and  then  reeled  against  her  neighbour,  and  fainted 
away. 

St.  John  sprang  to  the  window,  threw  it  open, 
and  looked  out;  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen; 
everything  was  quiet.  Then  he  and  two  other 
men  stepped  outside  and  investigated;  they  found 
nothing  in  the  least  suspicious. 

In  the  meantime  the  servants  had  ransacked  the 
house  from  top  to  bottom,  and  found  no  one — 
even  Miss  Paget's  jewels  were  intact. 

The  dinner  was  resumed,  the  girl  who  had 
fainted  concluding  with  the  rest  that  she  had  been 
scared  and  that  the  whole  thing  was  the  result  of 
her  imagination.  Order  was  restored,  and  the 
subject  of  the  burglaries  dropped. 

Only  one  man  had  the  right  of  the  affair,  and 
his  conversation  on  the  corner  of  the  street  ex- 
plained it. 

"  By  George !  "  exclaimed  Burke,  for  it  was 
he,  "  I've  had  a  narrow  escape!  Somebody  saw 


236  THE  CATSPAW 

me  lookin'  in  the  window  an'  pretty  near  nabbed 
me !  That  would  have  been  rich !  "  He  waited 
a  few  minutes  to  determine  whether  there  was 
any  effort  at  pursuit;  presently  he  went  on:  "  But 
he's  there,  all  right,  all  right,  an'  he  won't  get 
away  without  Jimmy  Burke  astern !  You  can  bet 
your  bottom  dollar  on  that,  Stumpy,  to  any  tune 
you  please." 

The  Paget  function,  however,  seemed  to  have 
been  destined  to  be  interrupted.  For  it  was 
not  very  long  before  the  butler  brought  in  a 
note  for  Mr.  St.  John;  and  St.  John,  taking 
it  and  reading  it  quickly,  immediately  sought 
out  his  hostess  to  make  his  excuses,  ending 
with: 

"  It's  half-past  eleven,  and  I  must  be  off  at 
once.  Sorry  to  .  .  ." 

"What — what's  the  matter?"  she  inquired 
anxiously. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said,  with  a  shake  of  the 
head.  "  I  thought  that  to-night  I  would  be  free, 
but  it  seems  .  .  .  Here's  the  note;  you  may 
read  it,  if  you  will." 

Dorothy  started  imperceptibly  as  she  glanced 
at  it;  then  she  read  as  follows: — 


THE  LEOPARD'S  SPOTS          237 

MY  DEAR  ST.  JOHN: — 

Be  at  the  Iroquois  Club  at  twelve  o'clock  if  possible.  Some 
friends  of  yours  will  be  there  between  twelve  and  half-past 
two.  Don't  fail  us. 

The  note  was  unsigned.  When  she  had  finished 
reading  it,  she  inquired  somewhat  uneasily: — 

"  What  does  it  mean  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  told  her,  a  mystified  look 
on  his  face. 

"  I'm  sorry — awfully  sorry  that  you  must  go," 
she  declared,  concealing  well  the  annoyance  that 
she  felt. 

"  So  am  I,  Dorothy.  I  hate  to  leave  you  un- 
protected. These  robberies  that  they  talked  about 
to-night  are  serious,  it  seems.  You  must  be  care- 
ful to  keep  the  house  well  locked  up,  for,  if  any- 
thing were  to  happen  to  you  " — he  turned  pale  as 
he  spoke — "  if  anything  were  to  happen  to  you, 
I  don't  know  what  I'd  do." 

The  girl  looked  up  into  his  eyes  with  a  reas- 
suring smile. 

"  You  need  not  fear  for  me,  for  we  are  quite 
safe  here.  The  coachman,"  she  explained,  "  can 
be  summoned  in  an  instant;  and  William,  our  old 
butler,  sleeps  downstairs.  Then,  my  aunt  sleeps 


23  8  THE  CATSPAW 

in  the  front  room  and  I  in  one  of  the  back  ones — 
the  one  at  the  corner  " — she  indicated  it  with  a 
gesture — "  and  one  of  the  maids  is  on  the  same 
floor  within  calling  distance.  Our  house  is  well 
exposed  and  we've  never  had  any  trouble;  we 
never  expect  to,  either.  Nothing  will — nothing 
can  happen,  I'm  sure." 

St.  John  bowed  and  gravely  observed: — 

"  I  sincerely  trust  not." 

'  You  will  come  to-morrow?  "  she  asked  as  he 
was  leaving. 

'Yes,"  he  replied;  and  the  next  moment  he 
was  gone. 

Dorothy  had  started  to  return  to  her  guests 
when  she  discovered  that  she  had  unwittingly  re- 
tained possession  of  the  note.  She  rushed  back 
and  threw  open  the  door,  even  calling  after  him; 
but  to  no  purpose;  he  was  already  beyond  calling 
distance.  She  closed  the  door  and  stood  uncer- 
tainly beneath  the  light  and  re-read  the  note,  a 
troubled  expression  settling  upon  her  face  as  she 
did  so;  and  then,  instead  of  returning  to  her  guests, 
she  ran  lightly'  up  the  stairs  to  her  room. 

It  was  a  singular  thing  that,  as  long  as  she  had 
known  him,  Dorothy  had  received  from  St.  John 


THE  LEOPARD'S  SPOTS          239 

but  two  letters,  and  these  had  come  within  a  fort- 
night. 

Opening  the  drawer  of  her  dressing-table,  she 
took  the  letters  out,  opened  them,  and  compared 
them  carefully  with  the  note  which  had  come  for 
St.  John  that  night.  Suddenly,  with  a  little  cry, 
she  exclaimed:  "  What  can  it  all  mean— what  does 
it  mean  ?  "  For  she  had  found  that  the  note  of 
to-night  was  written  in  the  same  hand  as  were 
the  other  two — in  the  handwriting  of  Kittredge 
St.  John ! 

It  was,  indeed,  a  very  perplexed  hostess  who 
returned  to  her  guests  some  minutes  later. 

Meanwhile,  St.  John  headed  straight  for  his 
apartment  in  the  Elberon,  which  he  reached  and 
entered  with  alacrity;  some  time  later  he  came  out, 
and  directed  his  steps  apparently  toward  the  Iro- 
quois  Club,  the  three  men  keeping  him  well  in 
sight  in  their  endeavour  to  camp  upon  his  trail. 

St.  John's  departure  from  the  Paget  house, 
however,  seemed  to  have  acted  as  a  sort  of  signal 
for  the  premature  termination  of  the  evening's 
festivities,  for,  one  by  one,  the  guests  began  to 
make  ready  to  go.  So  that,  within  half  an  hour, 
the  lights  on  the  ground  floor  had  been  extin- 


24o  THE  CATSPAW 

guished,  and  Dorothy,  seeking  at  once  the  privacy 
of  her  own  room,  threw  herself  into  a  large  chair 
facing  one  of  the  two  side  windows.  She  was  in 
no  mood  to  sleep,  not  only  because  the  night  was 
sultry  and  close, — for  the  night  was  dark  and 
there  was  no  moon, — but  because  of  something 
that  made  her  wakeful,  preyed  upon  her  mind. 

"What  does  it  mean?  What  can  it  mean?" 
she  repeated  to  herself  over  and  over  again. 

Presently  she  lit  a  small  lamp  and  placed  it 
upon  her  dressing-table,  and  once  more  she  scanned 
the  three  letters.  There  was  no  further  doubt  in 
her  mind  that  they  were  all  in  the  same  hand- 
writing; and  mysterious  as  they  were  in  text — for 
they  contained  no  hidden  word  of  endearment, — 
she  read  and  re-read  them  many  times.  Finally 
she  swept  the  letters  into  a  drawer,  extinguished 
the  light,  and  once  more  sank  into  her  place  by 
the  eastern  window. 

Why  was  it,  she  asked  herself,  that  this  man, 
who  had  thus  come  into  her  life,  had  clothed  him- 
self in  mystery? 

Yet  she  still  had  faith  in  him.  But  she  could 
not  know  that  outside  in  the  garden  at  that  very 
moment,  concealed  by  the  shrubbery  that  sur- 


THE  LEOPARD'S  SPOTS          241 

rounded  the  house,  there  stood  a  man— a  man  who 
was  a  part  of  the  chaotic  blackness  of  the  night, 
whose  skin  may  have  been  white,  but,  if  it  were, 
it  did  not  show,  for  he  wore  a  black  mask  and 
dark-coloured  gloves,  black  clothes  with  coat-collar 
well  turned  up — a  man  who  had  a  keen  ear, 
which  he  was  using  to  the  best  advantage  as 
he  waited  for  absolute  quiet  to  reign  within  the 
house. 

Finally  he  made  an  imperceptible  movement, 
and  somewhere  within  his  apparel  a  small  bell 
struck  the  hour;  he  sighed  with  relief. 

"  I'll  try  it  now,"  he  said  softly  to  himself.  But 
still  he  did  not  move.  "  Let  me  see,"  he  mused. 
"  I  want  to  get  this  straight.  I  must  make  no 
mistakes  .  .  .  There  are  six  people  in  the 
house,"  he  continued,  checking  them  off  on  his 
fingers  as  he  spoke :  "  The  girl,  the  old  lady,  the 
man,  and  three  servants.  The  three  servants  are 
on  the  upper  floor — but  they  sleep  and  don't  count 
— they  never  do;  the  man  is  on  the  ground  floor — 
that  eliminates  him;  the  old  lady  is  in  the  front 
room — too  far  off  to  be  dangerous;  that  leaves 
no  one  but  the  girl  to  face — and  if  she  hears  me, 
why,  then  I  can  get  away  in  time,  at  any  rate. 


242  THE  CATSPAW 

The  thing  seems  safe — safer  than  many  others. 
.  .  .  Here  goes !  "  he  ended  briefly,  moving 
toward  an  open  space  of  eighteen  feet  between 
the  shrubbery  and  the  house,  and  disappearing 
from  view  beneath  the  bushes,  only  to  emerge  an 
instant  later  from  the  protection  of  the  leaves;  and 
now,  by  means  of  some  clever  burglar  trick,  he 
wriggled  half-prostrate  across  the  open  space. 

To  the  woman  in  the  room  above,  he  was 
merely  a  passing  shadow,  a  bit  darker  than  the 
others,  perhaps,  but  nothing  more. 

Once  across,  however,  the  man  became  to  all 
appearances  a  portion  of  the  house.  He  was  not 
one  to  do  things  at  random,  and  in  this  instance 
he  had  most  carefully  acquainted  himself  with 
the  details  of  the  job  before  him,  to  say  nothing 
of  his  being  an  expert  in  this  line. 

Night  after  night  he  had  lurked  in  the  vicinity 
of  this  house,  alert  and  wide-awake  to  everything 
that  went  on,  not  only  on  the  outside,  but  likewise 
in  the  inside,  alert  as  well  to  the  habits  of  its  oc- 
cupants. He  had  even  determined  the  exact  loca- 
tion of  his  booty,  and,  if  surprised,  he  knew  just 
which  way  to  run. 

Outside  a   policeman  swung  along  with  easy 


THE  LEOPARD'S  SPOTS         243 

gait.  He  stopped  and  peered  a  moment  into  the 
shrubbery,  and  then  passed  on. 

The  man  alongside  the  house  breathed  a  sigh 
of  relief.  Suddenly  he  shook  with  uncontrollable 
but  silent  laughter. 

"  I  presume,"  he  remarked  softly  to  himself, 
"  that  Burke  and  his  gang  are  still  watching  for 
me  at  the  Iroquois.  I  must  go  around  there  and 
take  a  look  at  them  when  I  get  through." 

Prepared  for  all  emergencies,  quickly  now  he 
proceeded  to  force  his  way  through  a  cellar  win- 
dow; and,  having  accomplished  this,  he  crept  into 
the  house,  dropping  to  the  cellar  floor,  closing 
and  fastening  the  window  behind  him.  There 
was  no  trace  of  him  or  his  work  left  without;  all 
that  he  had  now  to  fear  were  the  occupants  of 
the  house. 

"  This  is  a  cinch !  "  he  muttered  underneath  his 
breath. 

But  it  proved  to  be  not  so  much  of  a  cinch  as 
he  had  thought:  he  had  to  break  an  entrance 
through  three  doors  before  he  stood  upon  the 
ground  floor.  Once  there,  however,  he  felt  his 
way  cautiously  to  the  pantry — where  he  knew  the 
butler  slept.  The  door  was  wide  open,  and  a 


244  THE  CATSPAW 

gas-jet  in  the  room  was  turned  down  low.  Loud 
snores  proceeded  from  the  bed;  the  butler  lay 
upon  his  back,  his  mouth  wide  open.  The  man 
with  the  black  mask  was  pleased  to  note  that 
much. 

It  is  said  that  the  chloroforming  burglar  is  a 
myth,  or,  if  not  a  myth,  a  failure.  Chloroform 
gags  and  stifles  and  is  bound  to  waken  its  victim. 
But  the  man  in  the  black  mask  knew  his  business : 
He  was  ready  for  the  gasp,  the  cough,  the  gurgle, 
and  anticipated  the  fact  that  his  victim  would 
wake. 

Listening  carefully  to  the  respiration,  he 
grasped  his  man  by  the  throat  each  time  there 
was  an  expulsion  of  air,  and  sprayed  the  vapour 
down  his  throat  as  he  released  his  grasp.  There 
was  a  struggle — there  was  bound  to  be — but  the 
butler  was  no  match  for  the  iron  muscles  and 
trained  science  of  the  man  in  black;  and  the  strug- 
gles became  fainter  and  fainter,  until  the  man  on 
the  bed  succumbed. 

For  ten  minutes  the  burglar  kept  his  chloro- 
form-cone in  place  over  the  other's  face,  and  then 
deftly  gagged  him  and  tied  him  hand  and  foot 
to  the  bed  whereon  he  lay. 


THE  LEOPARD'S  SPOTS          245 

Then  he  stole  softly  upstairs. 

Every  bedroom  door  was  locked — the  recent 
burglaries  having  made  everybody  timorous. 

"  It's  just  as  well,"  he  laughed  to  himself,  care- 
fully securing  each  door  from  the  outside  with 
ropes  tied  to  the  handles  in  such  a  manner  that 
it  would  be  impossible,  by  the  exercise  of  ordinary 
force,  to  open  them  at  all.  Nevertheless,  at  each 
door  he  listened  attentively,  and,  hearing  no 
sound,  he  crept  stealthily  to  the  rear  hall  window 
and  stepped  out  upon  the  extension  roof. 

A  rap  upon  the  flags  outside  startled  him;  it 
was  only  a  roundsman  on  his  rounds;  the  man  on 
the  roof  felt  perfectly  secure,  for  he  was  unseen 
from  the  street  below. 

Without  a  sound,  he  crept  warily  across  the 
roof  and  paused  just  before  he  reached  the 
furthest  window.  He  fumbled  once  more  in  his 
waistcoat,  and  the  mysterious  little  bell  tinkled 
again. 

"  I  must  hurry  up !  "  he  told  himself.  "  I'm 
due  now  at  the  Club." 

He  laughed  noiselessly,  and  then  stepped  to 
the  open  window  and  raised  the  mosquito-bar  that 
retarded  his  entrance,  and  disappeared  within. 


246  THE  CATSPAW 

Presently  Dorothy  heard — or  thought  she 
heard — a  noise  in  the  hall  without — the  noise  of 
a  man  creeping  stealthily.  In  an  instant  she  was 
on  her  feet  and  over  at  the  door  listening.  The 
steps  drew  swiftly  nearer  and  swelled  out  sud- 
denly louder,  and,  unlocking  the  door,  quickly  she 
threw  it  open  and  called  out: — 

"Who's  there?" 

But  there  was  no  answer.  And  then  she  saw 
what  it  was:  a  light  breeze  had  sprung  up,  and 
the  curtain  of  an  open  window  in  the  hall  was 
rising  and  falling  with  the  wind.  Smiling  at  her 
fears,  she  shut  the  door,  locked  it,  and  once  more 
resumed  her  seat. 

How  long  she  sat  there  she  did  not  know.  It  is 
said  that  fishermen  mesmerise  themselves  by 
watching  a  cork  bob  up  and  down  upon  the  sunlit 
wave,  and  that  the  heavy  hours  pass  almost  like 
minutes  with  them.  And  so  it  was  with  Dorothy 
sitting  in  her  room  in  the  dead  of  the  night,  wide- 
awake, and  yet  dreaming  day-dreams,  oblivious  to 
everything,  even  herself.  Once  more  she  started. 
What  was  it  that  startled  her  again?  She  looked 
hastily  around  and  tried  to  collect  her  thoughts. 

And  then  it  was  that  she  saw  at  the  northern 


THE  LEOPARD'S  SPOTS          247 

window  a  human  hand,  carefully,  stealthily,  noise- 
lessly raising  the  screen;  and,  before  she  could 
raise  an  alarm,  a  man  leaped  silently,  subtly,  into 
the  room — a  man  in  a  long  black  coat  with  a 
black  mask — a  man  who  seemed  part  and  parcel 
of  the  night  itself.  An  instant  more,  and  there 
shot  a  gleam  of  light  across  the  blackness  of  the 
room — a  gleam  of  light  that  issued  from  a  lantern 
in  the  hand  of  this  silent  figure. 

Stupidly — for  she  was  too  frightened  to  call 
and  too  weak  to  run — she  watched  the  ray  of  light 
play  across  the  bed.  Then  once  more  there  was 
darkness,  the  black  figure  having  moved  silently 
away  from  her  and  toward  the  dressing-table.  He 
had,  evidently,  thought  to  find  a  sleeper  on  the 
bed,  and  now  had  concluded  that  the  room  was 
empty,  for  he  became  less  stealthy  in  his  move- 
ments. 

"  This  room  seems  to  be  unoccupied,"  he  mut- 
tered presently  to  himself.  "That's  strange.  I 
thought  ..." 

Now  he  was  moving  here  and  there  with  a  cer- 
tainty and  rapidity  that  was  surprising,  never  slip- 
ping or  stumbling  and  even  unfastening,  with  a 
click,  the  mask  which  concealed  his  features. 


248  THE  CATSPAW 

And  still  the  girl  did  not  move,  but  sat  speech- 
less, motionless. 

The  man  once  more  flashed  his  light,  but  this 
time  directly  upon  the  dressing-table.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  he  was  looking  for  valuables;  and  pres- 
ently he  stripped  the  top  of  it  of  everything  that 
lay  in  plain  sight,  among  which  were  the  jewels 
that  Miss  Paget  had  removed  that  very  night. 
Now  he  opened  each  drawer,  and,  with  his  deft 
fingers,  examined  the  contents,  each  jewel,  as  he 
appropriated  it,  sparkling  in  the  strong  light  from 
his  lantern.  Every  jewel  that  the  girl  possessed 
was  in  that  dressing-table;  the  burglar  made  a 
rich  haul. 

Dorothy  continued  to  remain  motionless,  re- 
straining with  difficulty  an  inclination  to  cry  out. 

Suddenly  the  man  turned  to  the  chiffonier,  and, 
opening  a  drawer,  his  light  fell  upon  three  letters 
lying  loose  within  it — the  three  letters  written  in 
the  handwriting  of  Kittredge  St.  John.  Glancing 
over  the  first  two  carelessly,  he  laughingly  re- 
marked to  himself: — 

'*  They  were  wise  precautions." 

He  picked  up  the  third;  it  fell  from  his  hands 
with  a  cry. 


Stepping  quickly  to  the  wall,  she  turned  a  button 


THE  LEOPARD'S  SPOTS          249 

"...   fool   .    .    .   idiot!"  he  muttered. 

Hastily  he  picked  it  up,  put  it  in  an  inside 
pocket  of  his  clothes,  and  then  once  more  he  re- 
sumed his  work.  But,  as  he  did  so,  the  light 
from  his  lantern  shone  full  into  the  mirror  that 
stood  above  the  dressing-table,  and  the  reflection 
shone  full  into  his  face. 

"Henry!"  gasped  a  faint  voice  in  the 
gloom. 

Quickly  the  man  turned  in  the  direction  of  the 
voice,  flashed  his  light  upon  the  girl,  starting  in 
surprise  as  he  now  saw  her  for  the  first  time.  In- 
stantly recovering  himself,  however,  he  said  in 
a  well-modulated  voice: — 

"  Keep  quiet,  will  you !  " 

The  girl  did  not  speak  for  a  moment,  then  cried 
out  again  in  an  agonised  voice: — 

"Henry!    Henry!" 

The  man  took  a  step  towards  her,  and  demanded 
sternly,  but  in  a  low  voice: — • 

"What's  the  matter?" 

The  girl  by  a  heroic  effort  now  regained  full 
possession  of  her  faculties;  and,  stepping  quickly 
to  the  wall,  she  turned  a  button,  flooding  the  room 
instantly  with  light. 


250  THE  CATSPAW 

"  I  called  you,"  she  replied,  facing  him.  "  I 
called  you — Kittredge  St.  John !  " 

The  man  gazed  at  the  girl  uncertainly;  the  pu- 
pils in  his  eyes  were  dilating  widely;  he  looked  as 
a  man  does  who  steps  from  darkness  into  light. 

"  My  name  is  not  Kittredge  St.  John,"  he  re- 
turned in  a  nonplussed  sort  of  way;  and  the  girl, 
looking  at  his  eyes,  wondered  what  there  was 
about  them  that  made  them  look  so  peculiar — that 
made  them  look  as  though  he  had  just  awakened 
out  of  a  sleep. 

An  ordinary  observer  would  have  said  that  he 
was  dazzled  by  the  sudden  light;  but  Dorothy, 
agitated  as  she  was,  decided  that  the  man  before 
her  was  asleep,  fast  asleep,  was  a  somnambulist. 
Yes,  that  was  it;  that  explained  everything.  She 
made  a  movement  towards  the  door,  but  he  was 
too  quick  for  her.  In  an  instant  he  had  read- 
justed his  mask  to  his  face  and  leaped  toward  the 
electric  light  and  smashed  it,  leaving  her  to  grope 
in  the  dark. 

He  made  no  attempt  to  touch  the  girl — though 
he  half-suspected  what  was  in  her  mind, — but 
moved  stealthily  toward  the  window  and  proceeded 
to  make  his  exit. 


THE  LEOPARD'S  SPOTS          251 

But  no  sooner  had  he  placed  his  foot  outside 
than  he  just  as  quickly  withdrew  it.  For  there, 
dimly  outlined  in  the  darkness,  he  saw  the  head 
of  a  uniformed  officer  peeping  carefully  above  the 
roof.  Once  more  in  the  room,  and  regardless  of 
the  presence  of  the  girl,  the  man  hastily  stepped 
to  the  inner  door,  unlocked  it,  and  attempted  to 
throw  -it  open ;  but  he  was  hoist  by  his  own  petard : 
his  rope  outside  was  fastened  to  the  knob,  and 
the  door  would  not  yield.  He  swore  beneath  his 
breath,  and,  going  to  the  eastern  window,  looked 
out;  on  the  lawn  below  was  another  officer  stand- 
ing motionless  with  something  glinting  in  his 
hand. 

Uncertain  as  to  how  to  proceed,  he  halted  for 
a  moment  to  debate  with  himself;  and,  finally 
stepping  to  the  foremost  of  the  eastern  windows, 
he  put  out  his  head  and  let  forth  a  blood-curdling 
scream — a  scream  that  might  have  been  a  woman's, 
so  shrill  was  it  in  its  intensity. 

Immediately  the  attention  of  the  officer  below 
was  attracted  to  that  window.  Whereupon  the 
burglar  dashed  out  through  the  northern  window 
upon  the  extension  roof,  brushing  aside  the  officer 
who  was  prepared  to  make  an  entrance  there,  and 


252  THE  CATSPAW 

leaped  and  sprang  to  an  arbour  at  the  back  and 
jumped  to  the  ground. 

Simultaneously  a  shot  rang  out  in  the  air  and 
a  voice  cried  out: — 

"Halt!" 

The  burglar  laughed  a  mocking  laugh,  and 
sprang  upon  the  low  wall,  cleared  it,  and  disap- 
peared. But,  as  he  did  so,  the  officer  took  aim 
and  fired,  his  shot  being  followed  by  the  shriek 
of  a  man  in  agony;  but,  though  the  burglar 
shrieked  with  pain,  he  halted  for  an  instant  and, 
turning,  fired  two  shots  from  a  revolver  before  he 
sped  on  his  way. 

The  officer  kept  on  firing  until,  all  of  a  sud- 
den, he  was  startled  by  the  faint  scream  of  a 
woman. 

"  Don't — don't  shoot  that  man !  "  pleaded  the 
girl  in  the  window.  "  Don't  shoot  him — he's  not 
himself!  He's  not  awake!  He's  a  somnambu- 
list! Don't  shoot  .  .  .  !"  The  voice  trailed 
off  into  incoherency,  and  she  fell,  fainting,  to  the 
floor. 

Fortunately  for  the  girl,  however,  the  officer 
was  too  much  bent  upon  pursuit  to  hear  much  of 
what  she  said.  One  of  his  fellow-officers  was  al- 


THE  LEOPARD'S  SPOTS          253 

ready  speeding  after  the  culprit,  while  the  other 
one  remained  as  custodian  of  the  place. 

Presently  neighbours  came  to  their  relief;  the 
household  was  thoroughly  aroused,  only  the  but- 
ler remaining  for  some  time  in  a  stupor. 

Meanwhile,  away  down  the  street,  the  burglar 
made  good  use  of  his  heels.  If  he  had  been  asleep, 
he  certainly  woke  up,  for  he  flew  like  the  wind, 
dashing  up  one  street  and  down  the  next,  often 
doubling  on  his  tracks.  Suddenly  he  dashed 
around  a  corner;  then  everything  was  still.  Up 
to  this  time  the  officers  had  kept  sight  of  him; 
but  now,  when  they  in  turn  rushed  around  the 
corner,  he  was  lost  to  them,  had  completely  dis- 
appeared. They  ransacked  the  neighbourhood 
and  searched  all  the  houses,  but  without  avail :  the 
marauder  had  escaped. 

By  the  time  they  had  finished  their  search,  a 
man,  footsore  and  weary,  was  walking  in  security 
some  two  miles  away  on  the  other  side  of  the 
town,  his  steps  bent  toward  the  Iroquois  Club. 

"  Good  Heavens,  how  that  bullet  hurts !  "  he 
exclaimed  to  himself,  shaking  blood  from  his 
finger. 

Now,  it  is  well  known  that  ofttimes  in  battle 


254  THE  CATSPAW 

men  are  shot  through  their  limbs,  or  even  through 
the  body,  almost  without  pain.  Sometimes  they 
do  not  even  know  that  they  have  been  hit;  on  the 
other  hand,  a  stray  bullet  may  clip  a  piece  of  ear 
or  chop  off  a  finger  and  cause  excruciating  pain. 
Such  was  the  case  with  this  man :  he  had  been  hit, 
but  the  bullet  had  merely  clipped  a  small  piece  of 
flesh  from  the  end  of  his  middle  finger;  and,  while 
the  wound  was  not  serious,  it  was  agonising,  and 
had  caused  the  involuntary  shriek  of  anguish  which 
he  had  emitted  when  the  shot  had  taken  effect. 

Thrusting  his  injured  hand  into  his  pocket,  he 
walked  on  in  the  direction  of  the  Iroquois  Club. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A   DINNER  EXTRAORDINARY 

"  SHALL  I  serve  dinner,  sir?  " 

The  place  was  the  private  dining-room  of  the 
Iroquois  Club.  It  was  a  little  after  twelve  o'clock 
on  that  same  evening,  and  the  question  was  put 
to  Varnum,  as  he  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  little 
group  of  men  in  evening  dress,  by  a  man  who 
looked  anything  but  pleased  with  his  garb  of 
prison  stripes.  At  the  moment  of  being  addressed 
by  this  strangely-clad  servant,  Varnum  was  con- 
versing earnestly  with  his  friends,  Olyphant  and 
Major  Holbrook.  Before  answering,  he  threw  a 
comprehensive  glance  around  the  room ;  noted  that 
four  other  convict-garbed  servants  were  standing 
stiffly  at  attention  against  the  walls;  saw  that  the 
table  was  tastefully  arranged;  then  he  turned  to 
the  pseudo-convict  at  his  elbow. 

"  No,  Gustave,"  he  protested,  "  of  course  we 
can't  go  on.  Our  guest  of  honour  has  not  arrived." 

Varnum  drew  out  his  watch,  furrowed  up  his 

brow,  and  nervously  blinked  his  eyes. 

255 


256  THE  CATSPAW 

"  I  say,  Major,"  he  called  out,  "  where  can  St. 
John  be?" 

"  Don't  ask  me,"  returned  Holbrook.  "  I 
haven't  seen  him  for  a  week." 

"How  about  you?"  queried  Varnum  of  Oly- 
phant. 

Olyphant  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  He  was  all  right  when  I  saw  him  twenty- four 
hours  ago." 

Varnum  now  went  over  to  another  guest  and 
drew  him  into  a  corner. 

"  Are  you  sure,  old  man,  that  Kitt  St.  John  was 
notified  of  this  affair?  " 

"  Sure,"  returned  the  other  laconically.  "  The 
man  who  did  it  is  a  man  who'd  find  him  dead  or 
alive." 

Archie  sighed  with  vexation. 

"  We're  an  hour  late  already !  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  The  point  of  the  whole  thing  will  be  lost  if  St. 
John  don't  get  here  soon." 

Archie  was  quite  right:  the  point  of  the  whole 
thing,  if  there  were  any  point  to  it  at  all,  cen- 
tred upon  St.  John.  Varnum's  midnight  dinner — 
for  Archie  never  gave  a  dinner  until  after  mid- 
night— was  no  ordinary  dinner.  The  invitations 


A  DINNER  EXTRAORDINARY    257 

had  been  issued  in  the  shape  of  warrants  served  by 
deputy-sheriffs;  the  waiters  from  Gustave  down, 
as  has  been  seen,  appeared  in  durance  vile;  the 
menus  were  highly  decorated  affairs;  the  windows 
of  the  private  dining-room  were  heavily  barred; 
in  fact,  everything  was  suggestive  of  but  one  phase 
of  life — crime. 

"Can  you  beat  it?"  sung  out  Archie,  as  he 
picked  up  a  menu  and  gave  it  to  the  Major  to 
read. 

"  I  should  say  not,"  replied  the  Major,  draw- 
ing down  the  corners  of  his  mouth  in  a  grim  smile 
as  he  gazed  upon  the  cover  of  the  menu.  It  rep- 
resented Kittredge  St.  John  in  evening  dress  in 
the  act  of  breaking  into  Bonwit's  bank;  while,  on 
the  back,  there  was  a  striking  likeness  of  the  same 
gentleman  ruefully  contemplating  the  outlines  of 
a  nearby  penitentiary,  in  the  garb  affected  by  the 
Club  waiters. 

As  for  the  bill  of  fare,  it  was  arranged  in  such 
a  manner  that  it  featured  each  alleged  feat  of 
St.  John's;  in  other  words,  there  was  a  crime  for 
every  course. 

As  Varnum  and  the  Major  gloated  over  this 
exquisite  and  expensive  bit  of  tomfoolery,  a  dozen 


25  8  THE  CATSPAW 

men,  looking  somewhat  uncomfortable,  filed  into 
the  room. 

"  By  George !  "  cried  Archie;  "  I  came  near  for- 
getting all  about  them!  They're  almost  as  im- 
portant as  St.  John  himself." 

Puzzled,  the  Major  looked  them  over.  Stand- 
ing before  him  were  twelve  gentlemen,  each  one  in 
a  different  walk  of  life,  and  each  one  following 
out  his  own  idea  of  evening  dress. 

"Who  on  earth  are  these?"  queried  the 
Major,  catching  Archie  by  the  sleeve. 

Varnum  burst  into  a  fit  of  almost  uncontrollable 
laughter. 

"  Why,"  he  spluttered,  "  don't  you  recognise 
them?  They're  the  jury  at  St.  John's  trial. 
They're  all  here — the  Judge,  the  Prosecutor,  the 
Sheriff,  and  now,  here's  the  jury.  Corking  idea, 
isn't  it?  And  all  mine,  too." 

Another  half-hour  went  by  and  still  the  guest- 
of-honour  came  not.  Time  and  again  Gus- 
tave,  the  waiter,  his  leg  hampered  with  rubber 
ball  and  chain,  approached  Varnum  with  the 
statement  that  the  unusual  delay  was  playing 
havoc  with  the  good  things  long  waiting  to  be 
served. 


A  DINNER  EXTRAORDINARY    259 

"It  can't  be  helped,"  the  waiter  was  told. 
"  We've  simply  got  to  wait  if  we— all  night,  if 
necessary." 

And  Gustave,  with  a  deferential  "  As  you  say, 
sir,"  limped  back  to  his  accustomed  place. 

All  this  time  the  jurymen,  with  hunger  writ- 
ten on  their  faces,  were  imbibing  preliminary  cock- 
tails; the  other  guests  grew  glum;  Archie  was  be- 
side himself  in  despair.  And  now  going  to  the 
'phone  with  the  remark  that  he  would  call  up  every 
place  in  town  until  he  found  St.  John,  he  placed  the 
receiver  to  his  ear  and  asked  Central  to  give  him 
346  Chatham.  But  that  is  as  far  as  he  got;  for, 
at  that  moment,  from  every  throat  in  the  room, 
and  especially  from  each  well-moistened  epiglottis 
of  the  twelve  jurymen,  there  rose  a  rapturous 
shout  that  well-nigh  rent  the  ceiling. 

"  St.  John,  St.  John !  "  came  in  chorus. 

At  first  glance  he  appeared  as  debonair  as 
usual,  but,  after  a  while,  it  was  plain  to  all  that 
he  was  unusually  distraught.  He  was  pale,  had 
the  appearance  of  a  man  who  had  been  engaged 
in  some  mental  struggle;  dark  circles  were  under 
his  eyes;  the  veins  stood  out  upon  his  forehead, 
and  his  lips  were  pressed  together  tightly.  So 


26o  THE  CATSPAW 

that,  as  he  bowed  to  all  his  friends  in  turn,  there 
was  not  one  that  did  not  experience  a  sudden  shock. 
It  was  plainly  evident  that  St.  John  was  not  alto- 
gether himself. 

"Why,  what's  the  matter,  old  man?"  asked 
Archie  Varnum  with  considerable  concern.  '  You 
don't  look  at  all  fit." 

St.  John  moved  slowly  with  his  host  to  the  seat 
of  honour,  and,  sinking  into  it,  drew  his  hand 
wearily  across  his  forehead. 

"  I'm  all  right,"  he  said,  a  trifle  breathlessly. 
"  But  I'm  tired — tired  of  everything  to-night,  of 
everything  but  you,  Archie." 

But  as  the  dinner  progressed — for  Gustave 
made  every  effort  to  keep  his  viands  from  falling 
into  the  innocuous  desuetude  with  which  the  delay 
had  threatened  them — the  burden  that  rested  upon 
St.  John's  shoulders  seemed  to  roll  away.  So 
much  so  that  presently  he  lifted  his  glass  high 
in  the  air  and  said: — 

"To  twelve  good  men  and  true,  gentlemen; 
may  you  never  be  less  happy  than  you  are  to- 
night." 

The  maudlin  jurymen  at  the  other  end  of  the 
table  were  delighted.  St.  John  had  always  been 


A  DINNER  EXTRAORDINARY    261 

popular  with  men  outside  as  well  as  inside  the 
Club.  However,  it  could  hardly  be  said  that  he 
had  ever  made  a  bid  for  this  popularity;  on  the 
contrary,  there  had  always  been  a  certain  reserve 
about  him ;  and,  lately,  even  the  most  conservative 
had  to  acknowledge  that  this  habit  was  growing 
upon  him;  that  he  was  holding  himself  more  and 
more  aloof  from  his  best  friends.  But  to-night, 
when  later  he  rose  to  reply  to  the  first  toast  of 
the  evening,  there  was  something  about  him — 
something  that  could  be  likened  to  a  vital  resolve, 
that  lifted  him  above,  even,  the  extraordinary  in- 
dividual that  he  was. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  began,  while  the  eye  of  every 
man,  even  to  the  tipsiest  of  the  twelve  jurymen, 
was  upon  him,  "  there  is  something  that  I  have 
to  say  to  you  that  the  sooner  said,  the  better."  He 
paused ;  the  room  became  silent  as  death.  "  My 
coming  among  you  evidently  seems  to  have  been 
a  mistake,"  he  went  on.  "  I  thought  I  knew  what 
I  was  about;  it  seems  I  did  not.  In  the  last  six 
weeks  events  have  happened  in  this  town  with  be- 
wildering rapidity— events  that  a  few  officers  of 
the  law  believe  that  I  am  responsible  for.  I  am 
here  to-night  ..."  Again  he  stopped  and 


262  THE  CATSPAW 

closed  his  eyes,  his  whole  frame  quivering.  In- 
deed, to  little  Archie  Varnum,  it  seemed  as  though 
St.  John  were  fighting  a  tremendous  fight  against 
some  unknown  influence. 

"  I  say  to  you  to-night,"  he  resumed,  "  that  I 
am  responsible,  in  a  measure,  for  the  happenings 
of  those  events,  but  not  in  a  way  that  is  generally 
supposed.  Two  months  ago  ..."  He  broke 
off  abruptly  and  then  declared  with  an  air  of  great 
hopelessness:  "  Oh,  I  can't  tell  you  to-night.  You 
wouldn't  understand.  .  .  .  But  this  much  I  will 
say — you've  all  heard  used,  time  and  time  again, 
that  disagreeable  term — a  catspaw,  and  you  all 
know  what  the  term  signifies.  Not  a  pleasant  thing 
to  contemplate,  is  it?"  He  looked  around  the 
room  comprehensively.  "  But  I  ..." 

The  ring  of  the  telephone  bell  interrupted  him. 
Major  Holbrook  happened  to  be  the  nearest  to 
the  instrument.  Jumping  to  his  feet,  he  seized  the 
receiver  in  his  hand.  In  another  instant,  he  was 
holding  up  his  other  hand  for  silence. 

"  One  moment,  St.  John !  "  he  cried.  "  This 
has  got  something  to  do  with  you !  " 

Now  he  spoke  into  the  'phone. 

"  Hello,  Chief !  "    He  nodded  towards  the  as- 


A  DINNER  EXTRAORDINARY    263 

sembled  company  and  added :  "  It's  headquarters, 
Chief  of  Police." 

Then  through  the  'phone : — 

"  Yes,  I  hear  you — you  are  talking  to  Major 
Holbrook.  What  is  it?" 

At  the  other  end  of  the  wire  the  Chief  drew  a 
long  breath. 

"  The  Paget  house  has  been  robbed,  and  they 
say  by  Kittredge  St.  John." 

"  Why,  that's  the  girl  he's  engaged  to,"  said 
Holbrook. 

"  Yes,  I  know  it,"  replied  the  Chief.  "  Never- 
theless, he  robbed  it  to-night.  He  was  seen  by 
Miss  Paget  and  two  of  my  men." 

Major  Holb rook's  face  broke  into  a  smile. 

"Well,  you  didn't  make  a  capture;  did  you, 
Chief?"  And  from  his  position  at  the  telephone 
he  winked  at  St.  John. 

"No,"  replied  the  Chief,  "not  exactly;  but 
we'll  get  him  if  Miss  Paget  will  tell  the  truth." 

The  Major  rang  off,  and,  turning  now  to  the 
assembled  company,  he  roared  out:— 

41  Archie,  your  dinner  is  a  joke,  but  here's  an- 
other that's  got  it  skinned  to  death.  Here's  St. 
John,  who  has  been  here  all  evening  ..  ...  ."  He 


264  THE  CATSPAW 

stopped  as  though  searching  his  memory  to  con- 
firm the  truth  of  his  statement;  a  juryman  nudged 
his  neighbour  and  whispered: — 

"  But  he  hasn't  been  here  all  the  evening." 

"  He  was  found,"  went  on  Major  Holbrook, 
"  by  the  police  ransacking  the  house  of  Miss 
Paget,  uptown.  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  And, 
what's  more,  they  say  they've  cornered  him  at 
last!" 

At  his  tone  of  irony,  the  diners  broke  into  an 
uproarious  guffaw;  but  suddenly  they  stopped,  for 
St.  John,  raising  his  hand  high  in  the  air,  brought 
it  down  crashing  among  the  glasses. 

"  It's  the  last  straw !  "  he  cried  out,  glaring 
wildly  about  him.  "  I'm  through  with  talking — 
now  I'm  going  to  act." 

He  left  his  place  rapidly  and  strode  down  the 
long  table  and  into  the  dressing-room;  Archie 
followed  him,  only  to  find  the  door  of  the  dress- 
ing-room closed.  Pushing  it  open,  he  uttered  an 
exclamation  of  alarm:  there  in  the  middle  of  the 
room  stood  Kittredge  St.  John  deliberately  con- 
templating a  bulldog  revolver  which  he  held 
within  his  hand.  In  a  moment  Archie  was  at  his 
side,  crying  out: — 


A  DINNER  EXTRAORDINARY    265 

"  Kitt,  for  Heaven's  sake,  what  are  you  going 
to  do?" 

St.  John  straightened  up  and  opened  his  eyes 
like  one  coming  out  of  a  dream.  For  a  long  time 
he  stared  at  Varnum ;  at  last,  clutching  him  by  the 
hand,  he  said: — 

"Thanks,  old  man,  you  came  just  in  the  nick 
of  time.  ..."  And  with  that,  apparently  obey- 
ing a  sudden  impulse,  he  handed  the  revolver  to 
Varnum,  adding:  "Take  this  from  me,  Archie; 
will  you?  You'd  better  keep  it  for  me."  But  as 
Archie  was  about  to  take  it,  St.  John,  obeying  an- 
other impulse,  quickly  withdrew  it  from  Archie's 
grasp.  "  No,"  he  exclaimed,  thrusting  the  gun 
into  the  pocket  of  his  dinner-coat,  "  I'm  a  man 
after  all,  Varnum !  There's  some  way  out  of  this 
other  than  ...  It  may  take  days,  but  there's 
something  that  I've  got  to  do,  Archie,  some- 
thing ..." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  interrupted 
Archie  quickly. 

"  I'm  going  to  force  the  issue,"  returned  the 
other.  "  To  force  the  issue  with  myself  and  some 
one  else.  I've  got  to  leave  you  now,  Archie — 
good-night." 


266  THE  CATSPAW 

Outside  the  Club,  and  almost  to  a  minute  of  the 
time  that  St.  John  said  these  words,  a  policeman, 
pacing  slowly  upon  his  beat,  passed  by  the 
place  where  Burke  had  determined  to  take  his 
station,  whence  he  might  wait  and  watch  for 
the  quarry  that  he  was  intent  upon  running  to 
earth. 

"  There's  been  a  burglary  uptown,"  the  police- 
man said.  "  I  just  came  out  with  the  two-o'clock 
squad  and  heard  'em  talk  about  it." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  ...    ." 

"  Yes.  Up  in  the  swell  quarter,  a  family  of 
the  name  of  Paget.  .  .  .  Thief  got  away  with 
a  lot  of  jewelry  and  .  .  ." 

The  special  caught  the  other  by  the  arm  and 
asked  excitedly: — 

"Paget,  did  you  say?" 

"That's  the  name;  at  least,  so  I  was  told." 

"  But  I  was  there  myself  to-night  I  I  can't 
believe  .  .  .  !  "  And,  with  these  words,  Burke 
proceeded  to  move  on,  his  eye  directed  toward 
the  entrance  of  the  Iroquois  Club.  At  that  mo- 
ment, however,  he  saw  a  man  coming  out — a  man 
who  stood  for  an  instant  under  the  bright  light 
above  the  door,  and  then,  descending  the  steps  to 


A  DINNER  EXTRAORDINARY    267 

the  street,  turned  to  his  right  and  walked  along, 
one  hand,  carelessly  perhaps,  concealed  in  the 
pocket  of  his  coat. 

The  man  was  Kittredge  St.  John. 

The  following  morning  there  was  a  secret 
session  at  Police  Headquarters,  in  which  the  cap- 
tains of  the  various  precincts,  Burke  and  his  asso- 
ciates, and  the  two  officers  who  had  been  present 
at  the  time  of  the  theft  were  in  attendance.  The 
police  department  had  been  roasted  right  and  left 
by  the  press  and  the  people,  and  it  was  even 
hinted  that  certain  of  the  officers  were  in  league 
with  the  gang  of  burglars.  It  is  due  to  the  hon- 
esty of  the  force  to  say  that  they  were  innocent 
of  the  slightest  information  relative  to  the  affair. 
They  had  tried  their  best  to  solve  the  mystery; 
they  had  tried  their  best  to  prevent  the  depreda- 
tions, but  without  success.  Burke  was  their  best 
man,  and  to  him  was  entrusted  the  task  of  run- 
ning down  the  thief.  He  was  confident,  or  had 
been,  that  St.  John  was  the  guilty  party;  he  had 
run  him  down  as  best  he  could. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  chief,  "  the  honour  and 
integrity  of  this  force  have  been  attacked,  and  we 


268  THE  CATSPAW 

are  powerless  to  defend  ourselves  until  we  pro- 
duce one  or  more  of  the  members  of  this  gang 
and  yield  them  up  to  punishment.  Last  night's 
affair  is  the  last  straw!  I'm  going  to  find  out 
about  this  thing  if  it  takes  a  leg,  and  I'm  going 
to  begin  right  now.  I  want  Andrews  and  Cassidy 
to  step  up  here  and  tell  their  story." 

Andrews  and  Cassidy  in  turn  rose  and  told  the 
same  tale. 

Andrews  was  the  officer  on  the  beat;  Cassidy, 
a  roundsman.  Their  suspicions  had  been  aroused 
the  night  before  by  the  merest  chance — the  sudden 
lighting  of  Miss  Paget's  room.  For  some  min- 
utes they  had  directed  their  attention  to  the  place ; 
then  their  suspicions  were  confirmed  when  they 
saw  the  man  replace  his  mask,  leap  toward  the 
light  bulb  on  the  wall,  and  smash  it.  One  of  the 
men  immediately  moved  to  the  rear  of  the  house, 
mounted  to  the  extension  roof,  and  was  about  to 
enter  the  window  as  the  burglar,  a  tall,  well-built 
man,  dashed  past  him  and  leaped  to  the  ground. 
They  fired  and  evidently  hit  their  man,  because 
along  the  line  of  chase  they  discovered  drops  of 
blood.  In  their  opinion  they  had  wounded  him 
painfully,  and  perhaps  very  seriously.  And  then 


A  DINNER  EXTRAORDINARY    269 

he  had  disappeared.  They  had  done  their  best— 
and  no  man  could  do  more. 

"  Now,  look  here,"  asked  the  Chief,  "  did  this 
man  look  like  St.  John?" 

'"Well,  sir,"  said  Andrews,  "as  I  said,  we 
didn't  see  his  face.  But,  to  tell  the  truth,  St.  John 
was  the  man  we  were  looking  for — we  had  an 
eye  out  for  him — and  this  man  seemed  to  us  to 
be  about  his  build.  We  thought,  sir,  it  was  St. 
John." 

The  chief  now  called  Burke. 

"Where  were  you  all  this  time,  Burke?"  he 
questioned. 

"  Followin'  St.  John." 

"And  you  found  out?  " 

"  Nothin' — just  nothin'.  Either  we're  away  off, 
or  else  St.  John's  dead  on  to  us  and  is  keepin' 
straight." 

The  Chief  turned  a  pair  of  suspicious  eyes  upon 
the  detective. 

"What  the  mischief  do  you  mean.  Burke?" 
he  demanded.  "  Don't  you  know  that  St.  John 
robbed  the  Paget  house  last  night?  " 

Burke  started  up  as  though  shot. 

"  What !    D'ye  mean  to  tell  me  that  he  robbed 


270  THE  CATSPAW 

the  Paget  house?"  cried  Burke.  "I  can  take 
an  «ath  that  he  never  ..." 

"How  do  you  know  that  he  didn't?"  asked 
the  Chief. 

"  Well,"  Burke  told  him  with  a  smile,  "  I  ought 
to  know.  I  saw  him  go  into  the  Iroquois  Club 
last  night,  saw  him  take  his  place  in  the  dining- 
room,  saw  him  sit  there  all  night  till  half-past  two 
in  the  morning,  saw  him  go  home,  an'  I've  just 
come  from  the  Elberon,  where  he  lives." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  saw  St. 
John  himself  in  the  Iroquois  Club  all  that  time?  " 

"To  be  exact,"  explained  Burke,  "  I  didn't  see 
his  face  after  he  went  in,  but  I  saw  it  from  his  eye- 
brows up;  and,  besides,  the  doorkeeper  told  me 
half-a-dozen  times  that  St.  John  was  there.  He 
was  there,  all  right,"  he  wound  up  glibly. 

The  Chief  glanced  uncertainly  at  the  men  be- 
fore him.  Presently  he  touched  a  button;  an  offi- 
cial appeared. 

'  You  get  a  cab,"  commanded  the  Chief,  "  and 
go  up  to  Miss  Paget's  house  and  bring  her  here. 
I'm  going  to  have  her  down;  she's  the  only  one 
who  can  solve  the  mystery." 

Half  an  hour  later,  Miss  Paget  was  announced ; 


A  DINNER  EXTRAORDINARY    271 

she  was  subjected  to  no  stage  of  delay,  but  was 
immediately  shown  into  the  Chief's  private  r»«m, 
where,  accompanied  by  Burke,  he  saw  her. 

In  a  few  words,  the  Chief  explained  to  her  why 
he  had  sent  for  her  and  the  importance  of  her 
testimony;  she  replied  that  she  understood,  and 
would  render  any  assistance  in  her  power. 

"Did — did  you  get  the  man?"  she  asked,  a 
bit  anxiously  it  seemed. 

"  No,"  replied  the  Chief. 
'  Yes,"  answered  Burke. 

Burke's  was  the  better  answer  of  the  two.  He 
was  taking  no  chances  even  with  Miss  Paget,  and 
was  not  so  sure  that  she  was  not  trying  to  shield 
the  burglar.  Burke,  seeing  the  necessity  of  recon- 
ciling the  two  replies,  responded  glibly:— 

"  We've  got  a  man,  but  not  the  man — although 
some  of  us  think  he  is  the  man.  He's  nothing  but 
a  tramp,"  continued  Burke,  "  who  had  been  in- 
jured in  a  row." 

Miss  Paget  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief;  perhaps, 
though,  it  was  due  to  exhaustion. 

"  Now,  Miss  Paget,"  said  the  Chief,  "  won't 
you  tell  us  all  you  know?" 

And  Dorothy  told  him  all  there  was  to  tell, 


272  THE  CATSPAW 

from  the  time  the  burglar  entered  her  window 
to  the  time  she  saw  him  disappear  in  the  gloom 
with  Cassidy  and  Andrews  at  his  heels;  but  she 
said  nothing  about  his  personal  appearance.  Burke 
took  quick  note  of  that. 

"Just  describe  the  man;  will  you,  please?"  he 
requested. 

She  described  him — said  that  he  was  tall,  well- 
built,  wore  a  black  coat  and  a  black  hat,  and  in 
appearance  was  gentlemanly. 

"You  saw  his  face?"  inquired  Burke  care- 
lessly. 

Burke  wasn't  sure  that  she  had  seen  his  face, 
but  he  was  trying  the  experiment;  she  hesitated 
imperceptibly,  and  then  answered: — 

"  I  did.  He  wore  a  mask  at  first;  later  he  re- 
moved it." 

'  Wasn't  the  man  you  saw  in  your  room  last 
night  Kittredge  St.  John?" 

"  No,"  was  her  brief  answer,  delivered  in  a 
tone  that  carried  conviction. 


CHAPIER  XVII 

ROXANE  TURNS  INFORMER 

THERE  was  a  low,  timid  knock  upon  the  door; 
Roxane,  somewhat  startled,  turned  quickly  toward 
it  and  demanded  sharply: — 

"Who's  there?" 

14  It's  I,  madam,"  came  from  Kato,  one  of  her 
Japanese  servants;  "  I  have  a  letter  for  you." 

Roxane  looked  hastily  about  the  room  and 
started  for  the  door;  then,  thinking  better  of  her 
action,  remained  where  she  was,  calling  out  im- 
patiently : — 

"  Put  it  underneath  the  door — and  don't  dis- 
turb me  any  more,  please!  " 

'  Very  well,  madam,"  replied  the  servant,  im- 
mediately thrusting  between  the  door-sill  and  the 
bottom  of  the  door  a  white  square  envelope;  and 
Roxane,  recognising  at  a  glance  that  it  was  from 
St.  John,  seized  it  with  avidity  and  tore  it  open. 

Roxie  [she  read],  one  more  big  master-stroke  and  then 
our  get-away.  You  leave  town  on  the  I7th  and  wait  for  me 
at  the  trysting-place  on  the  2ist.  Don't  fail!  Everything 

273 


274  THE  CATSPAW 

is  arranged.    Bring  with  you  everything — we  are  through  with 

the  town  of  M . 

«**  e/«« 

KlTT. 


For  an  instant  the  heart  of  Roxane  leaped 
within  her;  but  the  next  instant,  as  was  her  wont, 
she  began  to  analyse  and  suspect  his  motives,  tear- 
ing mentally,  bit  by  bit,  this  missive  to  pieces. 

"  I  see  it  all,"  she  said  to  herself,  and  all  the 
agony  of  the  past  few  weeks  swept  over  her  once 
more,  sharpening  her  wits,  clearing  her  vision. 
"  Four  days  between  the  iyth  and  the  2ist — just 
time  enough  to  get  out  and  leave  the  coast  clear 
to  you.  Ah,  Kitt,  you  were  stupid  to  make  every- 
thing so  clear  to  me !  I  see  through  your  master- 
stroke only  too  well.  Our  get-away!  "  She 
laughed.  "  Your  get-away,  you  mean.  No,  no," 
she  mentally  commented,  "  there  shall  be  no  get- 
away for  you — you've  been  getting  away  too  much. 
Dorothy  Paget,  I'd  like  to  see  her.  .,  .  ,.  No, 
Kitt,  you've  had  your  last  chance!  " 

She  raged  a  moment  inwardly,  her  eyes  blazing, 
her  cheeks  aflame.  Presently  she  went  on: — 

"  I  am  to  bring  everything.  I  wonder  if 
he  .  .  ."  She  broke  off  abruptly,  her  startled 


ROXANE  TURNS  INFORMER     275 

glance  seeking  an  etching — an  innocent-looking 
pastoral  on  the  wall.  "  I  shouldn't  be  surprised 
to  find  that  he  had  robbed  me,"  she  concluded, 
darting  to  the  etching;  and,  swinging  it  back  upon 
a  pair  of  hinges,  revealed  a  small  safe  in  the  wall. 
Hastily  she  turned  the  combination  and  swung 
open  the  small  steel  door  and  looked  within.  They 
were  all  there;  package  upon  package  of  yellow- 
back bills;  boxes  upon  boxes  of  glittering  jewels, 
and  in  the  midst  of  all — shaming  all  with  its  bril- 
liance— lay  the  matched  pearl  necklace — the  pride 
of  the  Tony  Shackletons. 

"  I'm  to  bring  all  these,"  she  said  to  herself 
as  she  shut  the  door  and  restored  the  etching  to 
its  place.  "  Would  he  lose  all  this — does  he  mean, 
after  all,  to  come  to  me  on  the  2ist?" 

Pondering,  the  countenance  of  Dorothy  Paget 
thrust  itself  into  her  vision.  She  stamped  her 
foot  impatiently. 

"No,  he  doesn't  want  these!"  she  exclaimed 
hotly.  "  He  doesn't  want  me!  He  wants  her— 
the  richest  girl  in  town !  "  She  sneered.  '  She 
has  necklaces,  money,  everything!  I  see  it  all 
now !  And  this  is  to  be  my  pay— my  pay  for  all 
that  has  passed  between  us !  "  She  paused  a  mo- 


276  THE  CATSPAW 

ment,  and,  with  difficulty,  controlled  the  emotion 
that  she  felt.  "  Kitt,"  she  said,  "  the  three  years 
that  I  spent  away  were  heaven  compared  with 
these  last  few  months." 

Her  mood  changed  on  the  instant,  and,  tearing 
St.  John's  letter  into  bits,  she  stamped  upon  the 
pieces  as  they  filtered  to  the  floor;  then  she  became 
the  subtle,  crafty,  self-possessed  woman  that  she 
was  meant  to  be. 

She  sat  down  at  her  little  desk  and  answered  his 
letter  with  a  request  for  one  brief  interview  be- 
fore she  left,  naming  the  time  and  place  with  un- 
usual particularity. 

"  I  think,  Mr.  St.  John,"  she  assured  herself 
as  she  sealed  the  note,  "  that  there  will  be  no  get- 
away for  you." 

In  the  corner  of  the  room  there  hung  a  little 
cabinet  in  which  Roxane  kept  her  brushes,  her  col- 
ours, and  her  oils.  She  now  stepped  to  this  cab- 
inet, and  from  the  top  shelf  took  down  two  small 
phials  and  a  test-tube.  One  phial  contained,  in 
liquid,  a  long  piece  of  reddish-brown  substance, 
resembling,  more  than  anything,  a  section  of  the 
small  root  of  a  tree;  the  other  phial  contained  a 
colourless  liquid.  And,  placing  these  two  phials 


ROXANE  TURNS  INFORMER     277 

upon  the  desk  before  her  and  the  test-tube  by 
their  side,  she  seized  an  indelible  pencil  and  a 
sheet  of  soiled  ruled  writing-paper  of  the  general 
character  sold  to  school-children,  and  upon  it  wrote 
a  message  in  strange,  stilted  hand-writing. 

"  No  one  but  Kitt  would  ever  know  that,"  she 
murmured  to  herself,  placing  it  into  an  envelope, 
"  and  he  must  never  know.  ...  He  shall  never 
know.  ..." 

Once  more  she  turned  her  attention  to  the 
phials.  With  a  small  pair  of  nippers  she  drew 
forth  the  piece  of  tree  root  from  its  bottle,  placed 
it  on  a  blotter,  and  cut  from  it  a  section  of  the 
size  of  a  small  lozenge,  returning  the  remainder  of 
the  root  swiftly  to  its  liquid,  and  deposited  the 
lozenge  in  the  bottom  of  her  test-tube;  then,  seiz- 
ing the  other  phial,  she  poured  the  test-tube  one- 
quarter  full  of  the  colourless  liquid.  This  liquid 
gave  out  a  peculiarly  pungent  odour  that  made  her 
gasp,  but  she  covered  the  test-tube  with  her  thumb 
nervously  and  shook  it  in  the  air  until  the  lozenge 
had  completely  disappeared — the  solid  having  be- 
come dissolved  almost  immediately  in  the  pungent 
liquid. 

"  So  far  so  good,"  murmured  Roxane  to  her- 


278  THE  CATSPAW 

self.  And,  taking  the  note  that  she  had  so  care- 
fully indited,  she  proceeded  to  her  little  artist's 
sink  in  the  corner  of  the  room,  laid  the  note  upon 
a  plate,  and  poured  the  mixture  over  it  until  it 
was  completely  saturated;  the  indelible  pencil- 
writing  leaped  immediately  into  a  vivid  blue ;  then, 
seizing  the  note  gingerly  by  the  corner,  allowed  it 
to  drain  for  an  instant  into  the  sink  before  insert- 
ing it  into  the  envelope  that  she  had  prepared,  and 
sealed  it. 

"  Kitt's  note,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  I  can  mail; 
but  this  other  must,  somehow,  be  delivered  within 
an  hour." 

It  was  almost  midnight  when  a  little  street 
gamin,  with  a  dirty  face,  darted  into  police  head- 
quarters and  shoved  a  dirty  letter  under  the  nose 
of  the  desk-sergeant  who  sat  behind  the  rail. 

"  Fer  youse !  "  exclaimed  the  urchin,  and,  turn- 
ing, darted  out  with  the  same  rapidity  that  he  had 
entered. 

The  desk-sergeant  took  the  note  and  started 
to  open  it,  but  suddenly  stopped.  Some  pungent 
odour  had  assailed  his  nostrils.  He  beckoned  to 
a  door-man  and  said: — 


ROXANE  TURNS  INFORMER     279 

'  Tell  Burke  to  come  here."  And  Burke  en- 
tering, the  desk-sergeant  went  on:  "Your  name 
is  written  on  the  corner  of  this  envelope,  so  I 
guess  it's  up  to  you  ..." 

Burke  took  the  envelope,  tore  it  open,  and  drew 
forth  the  note  within. 

"Jerusalem!     It's  a  wet  one,  all  right!" 

"  So  it  seemed  to  me.    What's  it  all  about?  " 

Burke  forgot  its  dampness  in  the  perusal 
of  its  contents.  His  eyes  bulged  from  their 
sockets. 

"  Sergeant,  it's  from  the  same  party  that  gave 
us  the  pointer  about  the  Shackleton  affair!"  he 
exclaimed;  "  and  he's  putting  us  wise  to  another 
deal!" 

"What  do  you  make  of  it,  anyway?"  inquired 
the  sergeant  dubiously. 

"  It's  my  opinion  that  it's  somebody  that's 
mighty  close  to  St.  John.  ..." 

"  But  what  does  it  say?  "  pressed  the  other. 

"  Read  for  yourself." 

Whereupon  the  sergeant  read  as  follows : — 

I  told  you  the  truth  about  the  Shackleton  affair,  did  I  not? 
If  you  had  not  been  butter-fingers,  you  would  have  captured 
the  man  in  the  act.  However,  I'm  giving  you  another  chance 


280  THE  CATSPAW 

to  get  your  man — make  good.  I'm  on  the  inside  and  know 
whereof  I  speak.  St.  John's  next  move  is  to  rob  Mrs. 
Bellairs — you  know,  the  party  that  bought  the  Olyphant 
homestead.  She  has  a  safe  in  the  top  of  her  house  where 
she  keeps  her  money,  jewelry,  and  other  valuables.  No  mat- 
ter how  he  found  that  out,  he  knows  it,  and  I  know  it,  too, 
from  him.  On  the  morning  of  the  loth,  at  two  o'clock,  he 
intends  to  rob  that  safe.  My  advice  to  you  is  to  look  sharp 
if  you  would  capture  your  man. 

The  sergeant  turned  the  mysterious  unaddressed 
and  unsigned  letter  several  times  over  in  his  hands. 
In  the  end,  he  said : — 

"  I  wish  we  knew  who  wrote  this."  He  started 
to  lay  the  letter  down,  and  then  quickly  drew  it 
towards  him,  with :  "  What's  that  line  on  the  bot- 
tom there?" 

"What  is  it?"  queried  Burke. 

The  desk-sergeant  pointed  to  a  line  which  read : 
"Don't  put  this  letter  in  the  waste-basket;  just 
drop  it  on  the  floor." 

"  It's  a  wonder,"  commented  the  desk-sergeant, 
"  that  we  weren't  told  to  burn  it.  What  do  you 
suppose  that  means?  " 

They  had  little  time  to  conjecture,  for,  at  that 
instant,  Burke  sprang  back  in  amazement,  ex- 
claiming : — ; 


ROXANE  TURNS  INFORMER     281 

"  Jumping  Jerusalem!  What  the  dickens  is 
that?" 

And  well  might  he  have  exclaimed.  The  soiled 
letter  had  suddenly  adopted  a  peculiar  course  of 
conduct.  While  the  desk-sergeant  still  held  it  in 
his  hand,  it  had  burst  at  all  points  at  once  into  a 
brilliant  flame — a  flame  that  was  like  a  puff,  a 
flash  of  light.  There  was  no  beginning  to  it,  no 
accounting  for  it.  It  was  a  case,  apparently,  of 
spontaneous  combustion.  The  letter  was  there  and 
was  not  there;  its  blackened  ashes  sifted  to  the 
floor. 

The  desk-sergeant  was  speechless. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  make  of  it?  "  he  queried. 
"  And  that,"  turning  to  the  envelope,  for  the  en- 
velope also  had  begun,  though  more  slowly  and 
less  merrily,  to  surrender  itself  to  flame.  "  What 
do  you  make  of  it?  "  he  repeated,  as  he  swept  the 
envelope  to  the  floor  and  stamped  out  the  con- 
flagration with  his  foot.  "  No  wonder,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  that  the  writer  didn't  want  us  to  put  it 
in  the  waste-basket.  We'd  have  had  headquarters 
in  a  blaze." 

Burke  sniffed  the  air. 

"  That's  a  clever  piece  of  work,  sergeant.    The 


282  THE  CATSPAW 

whole  thing  in  a  nutshell  is,  nobody  else  was  to 
know  what  was  told  us.  Do  you  know  what  or 
how  the  thing  was  done?  " 

The  desk-sergeant,  mystified,  shook  his  head; 
Burke  sniffed  in  disgust  at  the  other's  ignorance. 

"  Why,  man,  it's  as  easy  as  rolling  off  a  log! " 
he  exclaimed.  "  Don't  you  smell  that  funny 
smell?" 

"  I  should  say  I  did,"  was  the  answer.     "  It 
almost  choked  me.     What  is  it,  anyway?" 
"  Ether,"   returned  Burke. 
"  Well,  ether  won't  set  anything  on  fire." 
"  Of  course  it  won't;  but  phosphorus  will." 
"  What  has  phosphorus  got  to  do  with  this?  " 
"  It's  got  a  good  deal  to  do  with  this,"  declared 
Burke.     "  There's  two  things  that  dissolves  phos- 
phorus: one  is  bisulphide  of  carbon,  which  is  the 
rottenest  thing  to  smell  that  you  ever  smelt;  an- 
other is  ether,  which  is  nicer,  but  takes  your  breath 
away.    And  that  is  what  was  used  in  this  instance. 
A   piece   of  phosphorus  was    dissolved   in   ether 
and  the  mixture  poured  on  this  letter.    As  long  as 
it  stayed  moist  there  was  nothing  doing;  but  you 
you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  as  soon  as  phosphorus 
is  exposed  to  the  air  it  will  burst  into  flame  in  a 


ROXANE  TURNS  INFORMER     283 

minute;  and  as  soon  as  this  solution  dried  out, 
why,  the  phosphorus  got  in  its  work  and  burnt 
the  darn  thing  up." 

The  sergeant  stared  at  him  in  amazement. 
"  Sergeant,"  said  Burke,  with  a  wink  and  at  the 
same  time  poking  him  in  the  ribs,  "  if  ever  you 
want  to  write  love  letters  that  you  don't  mean, 
this  is  a  good  way  to  write  them." 
The  sergeant  smiled  a  puzzled  smile. 
"  But  how  do  you  come  to  know  about  things 
like  this?"  he  asked. 

Burke  pondered  for  an  instant. 
"  Oh,  the  thing  has  been  done  time  and  time 
again.     But  that  ain't  the  point.     The  point  is 
that  we  must  not  forget  what  was  in  that  letter. 
You  remember  what  it  said,  don't  you?  " 
"  Yes." 

"  Repeat  it  to  me." 

"  The  morning  of  the  loth  at  two  o'clock  at 
Mrs.  Bellairs',"  repeated  the  sergeant. 

"  Exactly,"  commented  Burke;  and  repeated  as 
he  jotted  down  in  his  note-book:  "The  morning 
of  the  loth  at  two  o'clock  at  Mrs.  Bellairs'.  And 
this  time,"  he  concluded,  "  we've  got  to  be  on  the 
inside  and  outside,  the  top-side  and  bottom-side  of 


284  THE  CATSPAW 

the  house.  We've  got  to  land  our  man  for 
fair." 

Hence  it  was  that  the  morning  of  the  loth  found 
Burke  and  his  assistants  lying  in  ambush  in  and 
about  the  house  of  Mrs.  Bellairs,  having  obtained 
that  lady's  permission  as  well  as  her  promise 
to  co-operate  with  them  in  running  down  the 
thief. 

Kittredge  St.  John  obeyed  Roxane's  command 
with  unusual  eagerness.  But  as  he  stood  under 
the  eaves  of  "  The  Ivies,"  swallowed  up  by  the 
shadow  of  the  house  itself,  for  the  moment  a 
vague  uneasiness  crept  over  him:  Roxane  had  al- 
ways kept  a  light  somewhere  in  the  cupola — a 
light  that  beckoned  to  him  from  a  distance;  and 
there  was  none  there  now.  Presently,  casting 
aside  the  annoyance  that  he  felt  and  with  a  trick 
known  only  to  himself,  he  proceeded  to  clamber 
swiftly  up  a  corner  of  the  house,  finding  foot-hold 
where  apparently  there  was  none,  and  a  moment 
more  and  he  had  reached  the  roof.  He  did  not 
look  behind  him;  if  he  had  he  would  have  seen 
upon  the  dotted  lawn  shadows  quite  as  fantastic 
as  his  own  had  been;  for,  at  that  instant,  fully 
half-a-dozen  figures  darted  from  shrub  to  shrub, 


ROXANE  TURNS  INFORMER     285 

tree  to  tree,  and  silently  ranged  themselves  about 
the  house. 

But  as  for  St.  John,  he  was  too  preoccupied 
with  his  own  thoughts— thoughts  of  Roxane,  and 
their  future.  If,  however,  he  had  ever  given  any 
thought  to  Dorothy  Paget,  he  forced  himself  not 
to  think  of  her  now— now  as  he  lightly  clambered 
up  the  roof,  lightly  placed  his  hand  upon  the  case- 
ment,  and  lightly  thrust  open  the  window.  All 
was  dark  within,  and  for  a  moment  he  remained 
astride  the  window-sill. 

"  Roxane,"  he  whispered. 

There  was  no  response,  and,  without  faltering, 
he  dropped  to  the  floor  beneath  and  closed  the 
window;  then,  stepping  to  the  wall,  he  turned  a 
switch,  and  the  room  became  instantly  flooded 
with  light. 

"  I  wonder  where  .  r.  . "  he  said,  looking 
about  him  hastily,  and  was  about  to  leave  the  room 
when  it  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that  he  had  two 
purposes  in  being  there  instead  of  one:  he  had 
something  on  his  person  which  it  was  necessary  to 
conceal — some  treasure  that  he  must  hide. 

A  moment  more  and  he  had  drawn  forth  from 
his  pocket  a  dozen  sparkling  gems;  and  from  an- 


286  THE  CATSPAW 

other  pocket  a  goodly  roll  of  bills.  Then  he 
stepped  to  the  rural  etching  on  the  wall  and  threw 
it  back,  even  as  she  had  done,  swiftly  turned  the 
combination  of  the  safe,  and  threw  open  the  steel 
door. 

"What — what  has  she  done  with  them?"  he 
gasped  in  astonishment.  "Where  are  the  .  . 

He  staggered  and  almost  fell  back,  for  where 
once  had  reposed  the  matched  pearl  necklace  of 
the  Tony  Shackletons,  where  countless  gems  had 
glittered,  where  bills  had  piled  themselves  up  in 
their  bulk,  there  was  now  nothing  save  emptiness ; 
no,  not  altogether  emptiness,  for,  in  the  far  corner 
of  the  safe,  there  was  a  small  packet  of  bank- 
notes containing,  perhaps,  one  thousand  dollars. 
That  was  all  that  was  left. 

"  Can  she  already  have  gone  to  Manhattan?  " 
asked  St.  John  of  himself.  "  What  does  it 
mean?  " 

He  searched  every  nook  and  cranny  of  the  safe 
with  his  eyes  and  with  his  nimble  fingers,  and  then 
he  grasped  the  small  packet  of  bills  that  still  re- 
mained therein. 

"  Hands  up,  St.  John ! "  called  a  voice. 

St.   John   turned,   withdrawing  his   hand   and 


ROXANE  TURNS  INFORMER     287 

the  packet  of  bills  from  the  little  safe,  and  looked 
into  the  muzzles  of  half-a-dozen  pistols,  looked 
into  the  unflinching  eyes  of  Burke,  plain-clothes 
man  about  town. 

"  Hands  up !  "  called  out  Burke  again,  "  and 
keep  that  money  in  your  hand !  " 

St.  John  obeyed,  and,  for  a  moment  that  seemed 
minutes,  he  and  the  detective  glared  into  each 
other's  eyes,  one  with  triumph,  the  other  with 
defiance. 

"I've  got  you,  Mr.  St.  John!"  said  Burke  at 

length. 

A  grim  smile  played  about  the  lips  of  St.  John, 

and  he  quietly  answered: — 

"  Don't  be  too  sure  ..." 

"  Open  that  door  and  quietly  call  the  missus," 
commanded  Burke,  nodding  to  one  of  his  men; and, 
the  next  instant,  Roxane,  pale,  wide-eyed,  but  still 
self-possessed,  entered  the  room. 

41  We  caught  the  burglar  red-handed,  Mrs.  E 
lairs,"  said  Burke,  never  once  removing  his  gun 
from  its  threatening  position,  "  and  here  he  is." 

Roxane  started  back  with  well-feigned  surprise. 

"  Why,  Mr.  St.  John !  It  can't  be  possible  . 

"  Can't  be  possible!  "  repeated  Burke.     'You 


288  THE  CATSPAW 

see  that  packet  of  bills  in  his  right  hand  there? 
Well,  weren't  they  in  your  safe  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  faltered;  "over  a  thousand  dol- 
lars. What  does  it  mean?" 

"  It  means,  Mrs.  Bellairs,"  continued  Burke, 
"  that  we've  got  him  for  grand  larceny,  that  we've 
got  him  for  burglary,  this  time,  got  him  good  and 
fast.  I  simply  wanted  you  to  see,  wanted  some 
one  to  see  that  Burke  was  right." 

"  I  see,"  she  gasped;  "  but  I  can  hardly  believe 
it.  It  seems  like  a  dream,  a  nightmare.  Can  it 
be  possible,  Mr.  St.  John,  that  you  have  been 
committing  all  these  crimes?  " 

St.  John  merely  smiled. 

"Do  you  expect  me  to  commit  myself?"  he 
asked. 

Burke  strode  upon  him  threateningly  and  placed 
the  bulldog  revolver  against  St.  John's  breast. 

"  I  guess  you  will  commit  yourself,  Mr.  St. 
John,"  said  Burke,  "  and  you'll  commit  yourself 
right  now."  He  turned  to  Mrs.  Bellairs  and 
added:  "  If  you  don't  mind,  I  and  my  men  would 
like  to  be  left  alone.  We're  going  to  get  a  con- 
fession from  Mr.  St.  John,  and  we're  going  to  get 
it  now." 


ROXANE  TURNS  INFORMER     289 

Roxane  swept  toward  the  door,  where  she  stood 
for  an  instant,  her  glance  travelling  from  the 
^rnpty  safe  to  the  eyes  of  St.  John. 

"  I  think,"  she  said  icily,  "  that  it's  about  time 
Mr.  St.  John  did  confess.  I  wish  you  all  success, 
officer,  I'm  sure." 

When  Roxane  had  left  the  room,  St.  John, 
obeying  Burke's  command  to  sit  down,  quietly 
asked : — 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me,  officer?  " 

Burke,  all  the  brute  force  in  his  face  struggling 
to  the  fore,  bent  over  him  and  said: — 

"  St.  John,  I'm  going  to  put  you  through  the 
mill— through  the  third  degree." 

St.  John,  his  eyes  flashing,  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  You've  no  right  to  do  that.  Moreover,  such 
proceedings  are  an  insult  to  our  law." 

Burke  tossed  his  head. 

"  Right  or  no  right,  we're  going  to  make  you 
confess." 

St.  John  thought  for  a  moment.  About  him 
were  clustered  seven  brawny,  burly  men,  men  with- 
out pity,  men  whose  faces  already  had  become  the 
faces  of  beasts,  whose  professional  muscles  were 
tightening,  whose  fingers  itched  as  though  to  get 


290  THE  CATSPAW 

at  his  throat.  He  made  a  movement  as  though 
to  get  at  his  breast-pocket;  Burke  stopped  him  in 
an  instant. 

"  Hands  up !  "  he  cried.  "  What  are  you  reach- 
ing for?" 

The  prisoner  frowned. 

"  Perhaps  you'd  better  search  me  to  make 
sure,"  he  answered.  "  I  was  hunting  merely  for 
a  piece  of  paper." 

They  searched  him  and  found  that  he  spoke 
the  truth.  What  he  had  sought  was  nothing  save 
some  half-dozen  blank  sheets  of  paper  in  his 
pocket,  and  these  he  now  drew  forth  with 
their  consent  and  help,  and  laid  them  on  the 
table. 

"  The  third  degree,"  he  mused  softly  to  him- 
self; then  with  all  the  fight  gone  out  of  him,  ap- 
parently, he  looked  up  into  the  face  of  Burke  and 
demanded : — 

"  What  do  you  want  to  know?  " 

"Everything,"  the  other  told  him. 

"  Don't  disturb  me,  then,  and  I'll  write  it 
down."  And  for  twenty  minutes  he  wrote  swiftly, 
steadily.  With  a  long  sigh,  he  passed  over  the 
closely-written  sheets  to  Burke. 


ROXANE  TURNS  INFORMER     291 

Burke  took  them  and  read  them,  his  smile  grow- 
ing wider  as  he  read,  his  face  twitching  with  tri- 
umph, his  soul  gloating  over  his  victory. 

;<  Well,  I'll  be  hanged  if  he  hasn't  given  in  to 
everythin'I"  exclaimed  Burke;  "  everythin'  from 
the  robbing  of  the  Mordaunt  Bank  down  to  his 
work  here — the  whole  thing,  word  for  word!" 
And,  stepping  to  Mrs.  Bellairs'  desk,  he  seized  an 
envelope,  folded  up  the  signed  confession,  thrust 
it  into  the  envelope  and  into  his  breast-pocket. 
"  This  goes  on  file  to-morrow,  boys,"  he  said, 
tapping  his  breast  significantly;  and,  turning  to  St. 
John,  he  added:  "  Now  you  come  with  me — I've 
got  you  where  you  can't  get  away." 

Burke  was  as  good  as  his  word.  He  took  St. 
John  with  him,  and  that  very  night  St.  John  was 
held  for  examination — which,  indeed,  he  declined 
to  waive — in  a  very  considerable  amount  of  bail, 
which,  to  give  him  his  due,  was  at  once  furnished 
by  his  friends. 

The  next  morning,  Burke,  with  victory  painted 
all  over  him,  stepped  into  the  District-Attorney's 
office. 

"  Prosecutor,"  he  said,  "  you  don't  believe  it, 
do  you  ?  " 


292  THE  CATSPAW 

The  District-Attorney  lighted  a  cigar  before 
answering : — 

"  Burke,  I  can't  believe  it.  It's  my  private 
opinion  that  St.  John  had  some  kind  of  a  love 
affair  on  with  our  friend  Mrs.  Bellairs  that 
nobody  knew  about,  and  I  think,  when  you 
caught  him,  he  let  you  take  him  as  a  burglar 
in  order  to  shield  her.  What  else  could  he 
do?  Mrs.  Bellairs  is  young,  handsome,  gay, 
and  those  widows,  you  know,  wouldn't  stop 
at  .  .  .." 

Burke  brushed  aside  his  remarks  with  a  wave 
of  the  hand. 

'*  You'll  change  your  tune,  Prosecutor,"  he  said, 
"  when  I  show  you  his  confession.  It's  the  great- 
est confession  I  ever  read — clears  up  every  mys- 
tery, and  it  clears  it  up  from  the  inside.  When 
you've  finished  reading  it,  you'll  know  that  the 
man  who  tells  the  story  is  the  man  who  did  the 
work.  No  outsider  could  have  told  what  this  man 
tells.  You  see  ..." 

He  tossed  over  the  sealed  envelope  to  the  Dis- 
trict-Attorney, who  tore  the  envelope  open  and 
pulled  out  a  dozen  sheets  of  paper,  opened  them 
leisurely,  still  puffing  lazily  on  his  cigar.  Sud- 


ROXANE  TURNS  INFORMER     293 

denly  he  glanced  from  the  sheets  within  his  hand 
toward  Burke. 

"What's  this,  Burke?" 

Burke  looked  upon  the  sheets  and  rose  in  dazed 
surprise. 

"  What  the  devil  does  it  mean?  "  he  asked. 

"  That's  what  I  want  to  know,"  returned  the 
other.  "  Every  sheet  is  blank." 

It  was  quite  true;  the  paper  was  unsullied  by 
the  touch  of  ink;  there  was  no  mark  of  any  kind 
upon  it.  The  District-Attorney,  with  amusement, 
watched  Burke's  crestfallen  countenance. 

"  Burke,"  he  said,  "  there's  a  champagne  sup- 
per coming  to  me." 

Burke  clutched  his  arm  feverishly. 

"  Don't  let  the  boys  know  of  this— it's  one  on 
me  for  fair." 

He  scrutinised  the  blank  sheets  again,  and  then 
he  suddenly  pounded  them  with  his  clenched  hand. 

"  I  know,"  he  exclaimed  at  length,  "  I've  heard 
of  this  before !  The  paper  is  doctored;  it  bleaches 
ink  in  a  few  hours  after  it  is  written  on,  and  leaves 
no  trace.  It's  a  slick  trick,  Prosecutor,  but"— he 
smote  the  air  in  his  impotent  rage— "but,  don't 
you  fear;  there  are  two  things  as  sure  as  death 


294  THE  CATSPAW 

and  taxes:  one  is  that  you  get  your  champagne 
supper;  and  the  other  is  that  I've  got  St.  John! 
Confession  or  no  confession,  I  saw  him  rob  this 
safe — half  a  dozen  of  the  force  saw  him  rob  this 
safe.  I've  got  him,  Prosecutor,  got  him  where  he 
can't  get  away  I  " 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  DISCLOSURE 

THE  vigour  with  which  the  authorities  were  prose- 
cuting, if  not  persecuting,  St.  John,  not  only  puz- 
zled the  newspapers,  but  greatly  increased  public 
sentiment  in  his  favour.  There  had  been  some 
question  raised  as  to  the  advisability  of  releasing 
him  on  bail.  In  the  end,  however,  St.  John  was 
held  in  twenty  thousand  dollars  bail — the  Sher- 
iff's real-estate  partner  and  right-hand  man  sign- 
ing the  bond  of  the  accused.  Nevertheless,  as  far 
as  liberty  went,  St.  John,  to  all  intents  and  pur- 
poses, might  as  well  have  been  a  prisoner,  for 
every  officer  and  plain-clothes  man  were  furnished 
with  a  warrant  or  two  for  his  arrest — each  one 
issued  for  some  one  of  the  robberies  that  had 
been  committed— if  he  made  the  slightest  attempt 
to  leave  town;  while  as  for  Burke,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  campaign  against  St.  John,  he  could 
account  for  every  movement  that  the  latter 
made. 

During  the  two  days  that  preceded  his  exarai- 
295 


296  THE  CATSPAW 

nation,  St.  John  busied  himself  with  his  personal 
affairs.  He  had  examined  all  his  papers  and  de- 
stroyed everything  except  the  most  important;  he 
had  quietly  called  upon  each  tradesman  with  whom 
he  traded  and  paid  his  bill;  and  finally,  drawing 
checks  on  various  banks,  he  closed  his  accounts 
with  them. 

The  courtroom  was  crowded  on  the  day  set  for 
his  hearing;  not  a  few  of  the  fashionable  world  in 
which  the  accused  moved  being  present.  But 
hardly  had  the  magistrate  begun  his  examination 
when  there  was  a  stir  in  the  back  of  the  room: 
a  tall,  blond  young  man,  who  had  been  standing 
at  the  entrance,  was  seen  to  be  forcing  his  way 
through  the  crowd  and  up  the  centre  aisle  in  an 
effort  to  get  to  the  prisoner.  And  no  sooner  did 
he  engage  in  a  whispered  conversation  with  the 
prisoner  than  every  eye  was  turned  upon  them. 
The  people  gasped  with  astonishment.  There,  in 
front  of  the  magistrate  and  facing  the  crowd,  were 
two  men  like  as  two  peas — two  Kittredge  St. 
Johns ! 

It  took  the  District-Attorney  some  time  to  re- 
cover from  his  surprise.  At  last  he  called  out  in 
a  loud  voice: — 


THE  DISCLOSURE  297 

11  Is  Roger  Sturgis  in  court?" 

Without  any  hesitation,  one  of  the  two  men  still 
engaged  in  the  whispered  conversation  stepped 
forward. 

"  Take  the  witness  chair,"  commanded  the  Dis- 
trict-Attorney in  a  voice  that  still  showed  his  as- 
tonishment. Roger  Sturgis,  be  it  said,  was  unknown 
to  him,  but  he  had  received  from  him  the  day 
before  a  bulky  letter  which  he  considered  of  grave 
importance  in  this  case. 

The  other  of  the  two  men  appeared  amazed  at 
this  new  phase  of  the  proceedings.  With  great 
difficulty,  he  found  his  voice : — 

"Your  Honour  . 

The  Court  silenced  him  with  a  severe  ges- 
ture. 

The  District-Attorney  now  addressed  the  wit- 
ness on  the  stand. 

"  Mr.  Sturgis,  tell  us,  please,  all  you  know  about 
the  defendant  in  this  case." 

"  May  I  tell  it  in  my  own  way?  "  inquired  the 
witness.  "  It's  a  long  story,  sir." 

And  receiving  permission  to  proceed,  the  wit- 
ness began  to  tell  how  he  had  been  educated  at  one 
of  the  leading  universities — to  be  exact,  at  Yale-^ 


298  THE  CATSPAW 

where  his  life  had  been  unusually  wild,  with  the 
result  that  he  had  come  out  of  college  with  no 
especial  training  for  anything.  He  had  knocked 
about  throughout  the  East  and  the  West — mostly 
the  West — hoping  always  for  the  inevitable  some- 
thing that  would  suit  him  to  turn  up.  After  some 
years  of  this,  one  day  the  news  came  of  his  fa- 
ther's failure  in  business — his  father,  who  had 
kept  him  supplied  with  funds;  and  shortly  after 
that  his  father  had  died,  leaving  him  stranded  on 
the  high  seas  of  adversity. 

"  But  one  day,"  he  went  on,  "  unutterable  good 
fortune  fell  upon  me  like  a  thunderbolt  out  of  a 
clear  sky !  I  picked  up  in  the  street,  one  morning, 
this  copy  of  a  newspaper." 

He  handed  the  paper  to  the  District- Attorney ; 
it  was  marked  in  evidence,  over  the  strenuous  ob- 
jections of  the  defendant's  counsel. 

The  District-Attorney  read  it  aloud  to  the 
Court;  it  ran  as  follows: 

IMPORTANT  TO  ACTORS  AND  OTHERS  : — Actor,  producing  play 
with  dual  role,  wants  double;  must  be  about  5  feet  n  inches 
tall,  broad-shouldered,  slender,  blond  with  naturally  strong 
beard.  Must  be  refined  and  educated — this  is  important. 
Salary  large;  light  work.  Apply  at  once. 

Xi3,  THIS  OFFICE. 


THE  DISCLOSURE  299 

Eagerly  leaning  forward  in  the  direction  of  the 
magistrate,  and  in  a  low,  clear,  musical  voice,  no 
one  in  the  courtroom  seeming  to  be  more  at  ease 
than  he,  the  witness  continued: — 

;<  The  story,  your  Honour,  that  I  am  about  to 
tell  is  so  strange  that,  under  ordinary  circumstances, 
I  could  hardly  expect  you  to  believe  it;  but,  in  my 
own  appearance  and  in  the  papers  that  I  am  able 
to  produce,  I  have  the  absolute  proof  of  what 
I  say.  I  tell  you  frankly,  therefore,  that  through 
no  fault  of  my  own — except,  perhaps,  some  stu- 
pidity on  my  part — my  share  in  this  affair  is  rather 
a  foolish  one.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the  public 
has  been  fooled  by  this  man,  so  have  I,  and  to  a 
far  greater  extent.  Moreover,  I  am  perfectly  in- 
nocent of  any  complicity  in  the  series  of  crimes 
that  have  been  perpetrated  by  him,  notwithstand- 
ing that,  if  he  could  not  have  used  me,  he  would 
not  have  been  able  to  commit  them. 

"  When  I  met  this  man,"  continued  the  witness 
in  lowered  voice,  "  I  was  starving,  literally  starv- 
ing— I  who  had  been  reared  in  luxury  and  who  had 
never  known  what  it  was  to  have  a  wish  ungrati- 
fied !  And  a  man  who  is  starving  will  commit  any 
crime  almost  to  get  food — take  my  word  for  it  I 


300  THE  CATSPAW 

Fortunately,  however,  for  my  peace  of  mind,  I 
didn't  have  to  commit  any  crime." 

"  You  lie !  "  exclaimed  the  prisoner,  leaping  to 
his  feet;  a  court  officer  seized  him  and  forced 
him  back,  but  he  would  not  down. 

"  That  man  is  lying  to  you !  "  he  cried  out, 
pointing  to  the  witness.  "  He's  a  perjurer,  your 
Honour!  He's  ..." 

The  court  officer  again  silenced  him. 

"  I  must  be  heard,"  continued  the  prisoner 
wildly,  desperately. 

The  Court  stood  up  behind  his  bench,  and,  rais- 
ing his  gavel  high  in  the  air,  brought  it  down 
heavily  upon  the  marble  slab. 

"Silence,  sir!"  he  roared  again.  "You  have 
your  counsel — he  will  speak  when  the  time  comes. 
Unless  you  stop,  I'll  commit  you  for  contempt." 

Now  few  persons — save  those  accustomed  to 
scenes  in  courts  of  law — are  familiar  with  the 
really  terrifying  effect  that  a  severe  judge  may 
produce  with  the  aid  of  a  wooden  mallet.  Even 
old  and  experienced  counsel  sometimes  cower  be- 
fore an  irate  jurist;  and  that  the  prisoner  felt  this 
fear  was  quite  apparent.  Contempt  of  court  is  a 
serious  matter,  as  all  know,  and  it  seemed  likely 


THE  DISCLOSURE  301 

that  the  prisoner  dreaded  a  commitment  on  that 
score.  That  he,  apparently,  had  something  to  say, 
was  undeniable;  whether  it  was  for  effect  or  not, 
is  another  matter.  He  had  made  strenuous  efforts 
to  be  heard,  but  he  had  subsided  for  the  instant. 
Some  thought  that,  in  case  of  his  acquittal,  he  did 
not  care  to  risk  the  chance  of  a  commitment  which 
would  keep  him  in  town  just  so  much  longer.  The 
Court,  however,  kept  his  eye  on  him  to  discounte- 
nance any  further  outbreak. 

"  To  go  back  to  the  advertisement,"  resumed 
the  witness,  disregarding  the  outburst  of  the  pris- 
oner, "  in  response  to  my  letter  I  received  a  note, 
signed  H.  Harrison,  requesting  me  to  call  at  83  YZ 
Warren  Street,  this  city.  When  I  arrived  there  I 
found  a  number  of  light-complexioned  men  pre- 
ceding me;  and,  like  the  others,  I  took  a  seat  to 
await  the  outcome.  It  did  not  take  Harrison  long, 
however,  to  weed  out  the  crowd.  He  narrowed  it 
down  to  three,  and  I,  of  course,  being  one  of  the 
three,  was  retained.  The  other  two  seemed  to  be 
as  refined  and  educated  as  I,  and,  likewise,  as 
shabby.  Presently,  we  were  shown  a  photograph 
of  a  man  with  a  blond,  Vandyke  beard  " — here 
he  paused  and  looked  at  the  prisoner,  the  crowd 


302  THE  CATSPAW 

following  his  action — "  and  we  were  asked  if  we 
could  grow  beards  like  that.  We  thought  we  could. 
Then  he  gave  each  of  us  twenty-five  dollars,  and 
ordered  us  to  report  to  him  as  soon  as  our  beards 
were  grown. 

"  I  need  not  assure  you  that,  when  I  left  that 
man's  presence,  I  had  been  lifted  to  the  seventh 
heaven.  That  twenty-five  dollars  meant  compara- 
tive prosperity;  it  was  my  salvation." 

He  paused  a  moment,  and,  with  a  long  sigh,  con- 
tinued : — 

"  Then,  one  day,  some  weeks  later,  we  all  re- 
ported, by  pre-arrangement,  to  this  man  Harrison. 
One  swift  glance,  however,  evidently  decided  him 
in  my  favour;  for  immediately  he  proceeded  to 
dismiss  the  other  two,  giving  each  of  them  twenty- 
five  dollars  more  for  their  trouble.  And  now, 
opening  a  door  that  led  into  another  room,  he  mo- 
tioned to  me  to  enter,  which  I  did;  and,  closing 
the  door  behind  me,  Harrison  disappeared.  That 
was  the  last  I  ever  saw  of  him  or  ever  expect  to 
see  of  him.  I  thought,  and  have  always  thought, 
that  he  was  a  perfectly  respectable  man,  who  was 
engaged  in  the  transaction  of  what  he  believed  to 
be  legitimate  business. 


THE  DISCLOSURE  303 

"  Passing  into  the  room  into  which  I  had  been 
shown,  was  another  man — a  man  seated  at  a  table ; 
and,  as  he  rose  and  held  out  his  hand  in  greeting, 
he  seemed  startled  at  my  appearance ;  on  the  other 
hand,  I  certainly  was  at  his — the  likeness  was  so 
striking." 

The  witness  paused  and  glanced  from  the  pris- 
oner to  the  crowd;  the  courtroom,  for  the  moment, 
being  so  still  that  one  could  have  heard  a  pin  drop ; 
then  he  resumed  his  narrative. 

"  This  man  at  the  table  began  by  telling  me  that 
he  was  well  known  in  society  and  in  the  town, 
and  that  great  demands  were  constantly  being  made 
upon  his  time;  that  he  took  a  certain  pride  in 
keeping  all  his  social  engagements,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing,  but  that  there  were  many  more  con- 
genial ways,  to  his  thinking,  in  which  he  could 
devote  himself.  In  other  words,  that,  being  a  sort 
of  bohemian,  he  liked  a  considerable  amount  of 
gaiety  and  pleasures  not  to  be  found  within  the 
circle  of  his  friends.  This,  he  explained,  had  given 
him  the  idea  of  employing  some  gentleman  of  re- 
finement to  take  his  place  in  society,  thus  leaving 
him  to  enjoy  himself  in  the  way  he  liked  best.  He 
wound  up  by  asking  if  I  were  willing  to  undertake, 


3o4  THE  CATSPAW 

what  he  termed  a  mere  harmless  deception,  at 
the  same  time  assuring  me  that  he  had  no  en- 
tangling alliances,  and  that  the  result  could 
not  possibly  involve  any  embarrassment  to 
me." 

The  prisoner  again  sprang  from  his  chair,  where 
he  had  been  sitting  continuously  in  the  same  ex- 
traordinary state  of  excitement,  exclaiming: — 

"  Your  Honour,  I  must  be  heard !  This 
man  ..." 

"  Silence !  "  roared  the  Judge.  The  prisoner 
fell  back. 

"  Well,"  continued  the  witness,  with  greater  ease 
and  freedom  as  he  progressed,  "it  was  such  an 
unusual  proposition  that,  at  first,  it  staggered  me. 
I  thought  it  over  for  a  long  time  before  accepting; 
but  two  things  finally  decided  me :  one  was  my  love 
of  adventure  and  of  harmless,  practical  jokes, — I'm 
through  with  them  now, — and  the  other  was  my 
desperate  strait.  In  the  end,  I  accepted  his  propo- 
sition; and  then  it  was  that  he  told  me  his  name. 
Whatever  hesitancy  I  had  had  before,  instantly 
disappeared,  for  I  knew  the  man  by  reputation. 
That,  gentlemen,  was  my  first  acquaintance  with 
the  prisoner  there — H.  Kittredge  St.  John !  "  he 


THE  DISCLOSURE  305 

declared,  inclining  his  head  once  more  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  defendant. 

"  Your  Honour !  "  pleaded  the  prisoner,  "  I 
beg  of  you  ..." 

"  Officers,  keep  the  man  quiet ;  hold  him  down, 
if  necessary!  "  shouted  the  Court. 

Two  officers  stepped  to  the  back  of  the  pris- 
oner's chair  and  there  took  their  station,  each  with 
a  hand  upon  his  shoulder;  and,  although  the  pris- 
oner seemed  divided  between  a  desire  to  have  his 
say  at  all  odds,  and  the  fear  of  some  unknown 
and  undesirable  punishment  that  might  follow, 
nevertheless  he  yielded. 

Although  he  did  not  know  it,  the  Court's  ad- 
monitions were  of  small  importance;  the  magis- 
trate could  not  have  committed  him  for  contempt 
until  after  the  hearing,  and  the  prisoner's  de- 
meanour could  not  have  affected  his  own  rights  in 
this  particular  proceeding;  but,  nevertheless,  a 
wholesome  fear  of  authority  was  still  upon 
him. 

The  witness  calmly  waited  until  the  prisoner  had 
subsided;  presently  he  said: — 

"  By  pre-arrangement  I  called  on  him  many 
times — a  dozen,  perhaps — before  I  began  to  serve 


3o6  THE  CATSPAW 

him;  and  always  he  emphasised  the  fact  that  he 
was  eccentric  and  had  a  good  many  ideas  which 
he  wished  me  to  follow  out,  but  which,  he  ad- 
mitted, might  seem  to  me  extremely  ridiculous. 
For  instance,  he  told  me  that  he  was  invariably 
reserved — never  discussed  any  of  his  private  af- 
fairs with  his  friends  and  acquaintances,  as  many 
men  did,  and  that  he  preferred  never  to  be  the 
subject  of  conversation;  that,  whenever  and 
wherever  I  might  represent  him,  I  was  never  to 
enter  into  the  slightest  conversation  regarding  per- 
sonalities. This  seemed  reasonable  enough,  I 
thought,  but  the  request  that  followed  it  was  in- 
deed most  unusual:  he  made  me  promise,  that 
while  I  was  associated  with  him  in  any  way,  that 
I  would  never  read  the  daily  papers,  or  never  dis- 
cuss the  daily  news,  giving  for  reason  that,  in  a 
fit  of  anger,  he  had  sworn  to  give  up  the  daily 
press;  that  he  had  had  some  violent  quarrel,  or 
some  kind  of  an  experience,  which  he  would  not 
discuss ;  also,  he  told  me  that  his  antipathy  to  news- 
papers was  well-known  to  his  friends,  and  that, 
although  they  laughed  at  it,  they  respected  it;  and 
concluded  by  saying  that  the  newspapers  were  the 
most  monumental  liars,  and  that  they  could  make 


THE  DISCLOSURE  307 

or  unmake  a  reputation  in  an  hour.  In  short,  he 
became  so  explosively  violent  and  abusive  upon  the 
subject  of  the  press  that  I  assumed  at  once  that 
he  had  some  very  good  reason  for  it.  Beside,  his 
request  did  not  then  seem  so  strange  to  me,  for 
I  had  known  a  man  who  would  not  use  the  tele- 
phone; another  who  would  not  ride  on  the  rail- 
road; and,  again,  others  who  had  taken  violent 
dislikes  to  the  simplest  things.  So  I  promised 
him — it  didn't  make  much  difference  to  me  at  that 
time — to  follow  his  instructions,  to  be  like  him  in 
every  particular,  and  began  to  make  the  necessary 
preparations,  at  his  expense,  to  take  my  place  in 
society. 

"  Of  course,  I  lived  in  ease  and  luxury,  with  a 
suite  of  rooms  all  to  myself — although  he  had 
rooms  there  which  occasionally  he  occupied. 
Where  he  lived  when  he  was  not  there  I  really 
never  knew;  I  never  inquired;  I  don't  know  now. 
His  method  was  more  or  less  like  this:  whenever 
he  desired  me  to  attend  a  function  in  his  stead, 
he  handed  me  a  brief  note  of  the  people  I  should 
meet;  they  were  generally  the  same  people;  and 
I  soon  became  well  acquainted  with  them.  In  fact, 
with  many  of  them  I  became  better  acquainted 


3o8  THE  CATSPAW 

than  did  St.  John  himself.  Moreover,  there  are 
certain  persons  in  this  town — I  know  of  one  or  two 
in  particular — who  knew  me  as  Kittredge  St.  John, 
and,  yet,  who  never  had  met  St.  John  at  all. 
Furthermore,  St.  John  directed  me  to  make  as 
many  new  acquaintances  as  I  could,  insisting  only 
that  I  keep  him  informed  as  to  their  names  and 
whether  my  relations  with  them  were  cordial  or 
only  formal.  His  special  instructions — always 
written,  and  generally  mailed  to  me — were  minute 
in  detail,  stating  merely  when  and  where  to  go, 
and  what  to  say,  and  what  to  do.  It  seemed  to 
me  to  be  more  trouble  for  St.  John  to  arrange  all 
this  mild  deception  than  it  would  have  been  for 
him  to  go  himself.  But  that  was  his  affair.  Be- 
side, I  soon  learned  that  everybody  understood 
and  humoured  his  harmless  eccentricities,  attribut- 
ing them  more  to  his  bringing  up  rather  than  to 
anything  which  he  himself  felt — for  he  was  gen- 
erally considered  to  be  a  good  fellow. 

'  That  I  was  honest  with  him,  I  need  not  as- 
sure you;  I  was,  indeed,  grateful;  and,  after  all, 
he  was  my  benefactor — one  that  was  peculiar  and 
whimsical,  it  is  true,  but  still  a  man  who  had  be- 
friended me  under  very  trying  circumstances.  Be- 


THE  DISCLOSURE  309 

side,  it  brought  me  in  touch  with  the  sort  of  peo- 
ple I  had  been  accustomed  to  associating  with,  and 
I  was  enjoying  myself." 

The  witness  paused,  and,  with  a  sweeping 
glance,  took  in  the  entire  courtroom.  There  was 
one  person  there,  however,  who,  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  hearing,  had  been  priding  herself  upon 
the  fact  that  she  alone  was  responsible  for  this 
criminal  investigation  now  under  way;  and,  as  she 
looked  about  her,  bowing  to  her  intimate  friends, 
it  had  been  with  a  tingling  satisfaction  in  the  pun- 
ishment that  she  was  meting  out  to  Kittredge  St. 
John.  The  woman  scorned  had  scored.  But  now, 
in  a  flash,  everything — with  her — was  changed. 
The  instant  that  the  two  men  faced  the  Court, 
that  instant  everything  became  tremendously  clear 
to  her;  and  she  saw,  at  once,  the  thing  that  was 
only  beginning  to  make  itself  understood  to  the 
bewildered  spectators.  A  tremendous  wave  of  re- 
morse swept  over  her.  She  realised  now  that  there 
had  been  no  ground  for  jealousy;  that  Kittredge 
St.  John  had  followed  out,  in  his  own  great  way, 
a  scheme  that  he  had  not  dared  to  confide,  even 
to  her. 

"  Kitt,  Kitt,"  she  moaned  over  and  over  again; 


3io  THE  CATSPAW 

"  and  I  have  done  all  this !  What  is  going  to  be 
the  result?" 

Well  might  she  have  asked  herself  this  ques- 
tion— she,  the  woman  who  had  led  him  on !  The 
terrible  regret  that  swept  over  her  stunned  her 
senses  for  a  moment,  but  only  for  a  moment,  for 
again  the  real  Roxane  began  to  assert  herself.  It 
was  her  part  now  to  undo  what  she  had  done,  and 
she  was  going  to  do  it.  But  how?  Her  brain 
was  working  fast  as  she  intently  listened  to  every 
word  the  witness  uttered. 

"  Fortunately  for  me,"  went  on  the  witness,  "  I 
have  kept  these  written  instructions  that  he  gave 
me.  There  are  a  great  many  of  them;  here  they 
are." 

He  passed  them  down  to  the  District-Attorney, 
who  offered  them  in  evidence;  they  were  admitted 
and  read  to  the  Court. 

"  So,  you  see,"  he  continued  easily,  "  there  were 
two  Kittredge  St.  Johns — two  that  never  were  seen 
together,  or  by  the  same  people;  they  kept  apart. 
It  was  not,  however,  until  the  night  of  the  Varnum 
dinner,  regarding  which  you  are  all  familiar,  that 
I  even  suspected  that  the  man  was  other  than  he 
had  represented  himself  to  be.  This  may  seem 


THE  DISCLOSURE  311 

rather  strange;  nevertheless,  it  is  a  fact  that  no 
one  spoke — save  casually — to  me  about  these 
crimes — I,  who  was  supposed  to  be  Kittredge  St. 
John.  Of  course,  something  of  the  former  trial 
here  did  reach  my  ears,  but,  as  all  I  heard  was 
accompanied  with  boisterous  laughter  and  had 
all  the  earmarks  of  a  respectable  and  well- 
understood  joke,  I  paid  absolutely  no  attention 
to  it. 

"  Then,  one  night — the  night  of  the  Paget  rob- 
bery— my  eyes  were  at  last  fully  opened.  St.  John 
had  asked  me  to  attend  the  Varnum  dinner;  I  had 
made  up  my  mind  not  to  do  so.  I  sought  St.  John 
and  told  him  that  he  had  done  me  a  signal  wrong, 
had  ruined  me,  and  that  I  must  expose  him.  He 
was  in  a  state  of  dreadful  agitation,  which  I  know 
he  assumed  for  the  purpose.  He  begged  me  to 
attend  the  dinner,  promising  that  he  would  make 
a  clean  breast  of  the  matter,  and  that  he  would 
leave  town  and  never  bother  anybody  again.  In- 
cidentally, he  reminded  me  that  he  had  befriended 
me,  and  that  it  wouldn't  be  just  the  thing  to  give 
him  up  just  then.  He  also  said  that  all  he  wanted 
was  twelve  hours  to  complete  his  arrangements; 
that  things  were  not  as  bad  as  they  looked.  My 


3i2  THE  CATSPAW 

position,  to  say  the  least,  was  peculiar.  I  knew 
nothing  personally  about  the  man — only  what  I 
surmised.  I  went  to  the  dinner  reluctantly,  hoping 
there  would  be  some  way  out  of  the  situation  other 
than  giving  him  up. 

"  Gentlemen,  you  know  what  happened !  It  was 
I  who  sat  in  the  poker  game  on  the  night  of  the 
Mordaunt  Bank  robbery !  It  was  I  who  was  the 
guest-of-honour  at  the  freak  dinner  on  the  night 
when  the  Paget  home  was  robbed!  Kittredge  St. 
John,  the  man  sitting  there,  was  the  man  who  com- 
mitted each  crime,  and  all  the  others  that  have 
been  so  much  deplored — Kittredge  St.  John,  who, 
upon  each  occasion,  by  my  instrumentality  but  with- 
out my  knowledge,  was  always  amply  able  to  prove 
an  alibi." 

He  stopped  abruptly,  as  though  to  lend  dramatic 
emphasis  to  his  last  words.  He  was  eminently  suc- 
cessful in  this,  for  the  courtroom  buzzed  with  ex- 
cited voices. 

But  there  was  one  person  only  in  the  whole 
courtroom  who  understood  thoroughly  the  tremen- 
dous situation  that  existed — an  all-important  fact, 
wholly  unsuspected,  which  was  to  become  known 
within  a  very  few  minutes, — and  that  one  person 


THE  DISCLOSURE  313 

was  Roxane  Bellairs,  who,  though  desperate  up  to 
this  point,  now  felt  her  vision  clear. 

"  Kitt,  /  ought  to  get  you  clear,"  she  thought 
to  herself,  "  but  you1  re  going  to  do  it  as  you  do 
every  big  thing — alone."  And  no  sooner  had  the 
realisation  forced  itself  upon  her  than  she  rose, 
and,  with  as  little  commotion  as  possible,  left  the 
courtroom. 

"  I  certainly  can  help — I  will  help.  ...  ."  she 
murmured  to  herself  as  she  went. 

"  I  have  come  here,"  wound  up  the  witness,  after 
a  pause,  "to  make  what  reparation  I  can  for  my 
innocent  share  in  these  crimes,  by  revealing  to  you 
the  exact  state  of  affairs  as  it  exists.  This,  gentle- 
men, is  my  story."  And,  pointing  to  the  prisoner, 
he  added:  "It  is  also  his." 

The  prisoner  sat  spellbound,  looking  at  the 
witness  with  a  fascinated  gaze,  in  which  des- 
peration, wonder,  admiration  struggled  for  su- 
premacy. 

The  witness  waited  for  the  cross-examination, 
but  there  was  none.  He  then  stood  up  and  quietly 
asked : — 

"  And  now  that  I  have  told  the  truth  about  this 
thing,  is  there  any  reason  why  I  should  not  go? 


3i4  THE  CATSPAW 

Your  Honour  has  my  address,  where  I  may  be 
found  any  time  I  am  wanted." 

The  Court  looked  at  both  counsel ;  then  he  nod- 
ded his  head,  saying: — 

"  You  may  go.  If  you're  needed  later,  we'll 
send  for  you." 

The  witness  stepped  down  from  the  stand,  the 
crowd  making  way  for  him  as  he  walked  slowly 
down  the  centre  aisle,  and  left  the  courtroom. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

WHAT   FOLLOWED 

"Do  you  desire  to  proceed  with  the  defence?" 
queried  the  Court. 

Now  the  counsel  for  the  prisoner  had  been 
ruminating  considerably  during  the  testimony  of 
the  last  witness,  and,  in  spite  of  the  startling  na- 
ture of  the  evidence,  he  was  pretty  well  prepared 
to  proceed.  For  of  one  thing  he  was  certain :  and 
that  was,  that  the  resemblance  between  the  two 
men  which  had  deceived  many  people  before  would 
constitute  a  strong  argument  with  the  magistrate 
in  the  defendant's  favour.  For  was  it  not  just  as 
likely  that  the  witness,  Roger  Sturgis,  had  robbed 
the  bank  as  it  was  that  the  prisoner  had  done  so? 
And,  from  the  prisoner's  demeanour,  he  wondered 
if  he,  too,  had  not  hit  upon  this  line  of  argument. 
He  had  a  dim  recollection  of  the  capital  that  had 
been  made  out  of  the  resemblance  of  Charles  Dar- 
nay  and  Sydney  Carton  in  the  "Tale  of  Two 
Cities,"  and  he  proposed  to  take  a  similar  advan- 
tage here.  Of  course,  he  had  had  no  expressed 

315 


3i6  THE  CATSPAW 

inkling  of  this  from  his  client,  and  he  had  been 
unable  to  prepare  himself  for  it.  Moreover,  his 
client's  demeanour  had  changed  from  the  instant 
that  the  other  man  had  appeared :  he  had  kept  his 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  witness  and  the  Court,  ignor- 
ing his  counsel,  even  going  so  far  as  not  to  con- 
fide to  counsel  what  it  was  that  he  wished  to  say. 
But,  withal,  he  was  certain  that  he  could  trust 
him,  without  further  preparation,  on  the  stand; 
in  addition,  he  had  evidence  upon  which  he  felt 
he  could  absolutely  rely.  The  situation  was  not 
as  bad  as  it  might  seem  to  be. 

He  touched  the  prisoner  on  the  arm. 

"  Take  the  stand,"  he  said. 

The  prisoner  looked  at  him,  but  did  not  move. 

"  You  heard  your  counsel,"  said  the  Court,  with 
some  asperity.  "  Take  the  witness  stand." 

The  man  obeyed  and  was  immediately  sworn. 

"  Mr.  St.  John,"  said  his  counsel,  "  will  you 
tell  us  .  .  ." 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  broke  in  the- man  on  the  wit- 
ness stand.  "  You  have  made  a  mistake.  My 
name  is  not  St.  John." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  his  counsel,  unprepared 
for  this. 


WHAT  FOLLOWED  317 

"  What ! "  repeated  the  Court.  "  Do  you  mean 
to  say  that  the  name  St.  John  is  an  alias?  " 

"  I  mean,"  replied  the  man  in  a  loud,  firm  voice, 
looking  the  magistrate  squarely  in  the  face,  "  that 
my  name  is  not  St.  John;  that  I  am  not  the  pris- 
oner; that  ..." 

"  What's  that,  what's  that!  "  cried  the  District- 
Attorney;  "  not  the  prisoner?  What  do  you  mean, 
sir?" 

"...  just  what  I  say.  H .  Kittredge  St.  John 
is  the  man  who  has  just  left  the  witness  stand — 
the  courtroom.  Time  and  time  again,  sir,  I  tried 
to  tell  you  that  the  man  who  took  the  stand  was 
the  prisoner  himself;  but  you  wouldn't  hear  me. 
It  is  not  my  fault  if  you  did  not  know  that  he  was 
the  real  prisoner,  the  ..."  He  broke  off 
abruptly,  and  then  went  on:  "He  knew  that  I 
was  coming  here  to  take  the  stand  against 
him,  so  he  took  the  stand  in  my  place,  and  told 
the  story  that  /  should  have  told.  He  knew 
it  as  well  as  I  did,  and  he  could  tell  it 
better." 

"  I  don't  believe  you,"  said  the  District- 
Attorney.  "Your  Honour,  this  is  a  mere 
ruse  .  ." 


3i8  THE  CATSPAW 

The  witness  again  interrupted  with : — 

"  Your  observation,  sir,  must  be  at  fault.  You 
know  the  voice  of  Kittredge  St.  John;  is  it  like 
mine?  The  one  thing  that  St.  John  did  not  tell 
you  was  that  the  very  points  of  difference  between 
us  were  in  the  voice  and  in  the  colour  of  the  skin. 
His  face  is  more  or  less  florid;  mine  is  always 
pale." 

"  By  George !  "  cried  out  the  sheriff  in  an 
audible  voice  to  the  crowd  about  him ;  "  that  ac- 
counts for  ..." 

The  Court  adjusted  his  spectacles  and  looked 
at  the  man  long  and  earnestly.  In  the  end  he 
leaned  back  in  his  chair  with  an  air  of  conviction 
and  announced: — 

"  This  man  is  not  Kittredge  St.  John." 

The  Prosecutor  thought  for  a  moment  before 
asking : — 

"  Why,  then,  did  you  not  take  the  stand  when  I 
called  your  name?" 

"  But  you  didn't  call  my  name,"  returned  the 
prisoner. 

"  I  did  call  your  name,"  said  the  District- 
Attorney  testily. 

"  You   called   Roger   Sturgis,"    responded   the 


WHAT  FOLLOWED  319 

prisoner  quietly.  "  My  name  is  not  Roger 
Sturgis." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  imply  that  you  did  not  write 
this  letter  to  me — this  letter  signed  Roger  Sturgis  ? 
Look  at  it !  " 

"  If  you  care  to  find  out,"  explained  the  pris- 
oner slowly,  "  you  are  certain  to  discover  that  that 
letter  was  written  by  Kittredge  St.  John.  Ask  the 
bank  man  there,  and  ..."  He  broke  off 
sharply  and  concluded  with:  "  It's  my  opinion,  sir, 
that  you  will  have  to  look  a  long  way  before  you 
find  any  one  answering  to  the  name  of  Roger 
Sturgis." 

"But  these  exhibits?"  went  on  the  lawyer. 
"  How  did  the  man  come  to  have  charge  of 
them?" 

"  That's  simple  enough,"  returned  the  other. 
"  He  had  a  copy  of  the  newspaper  the  same  as  I 
did,  and  it  was  an  every-day  job  for  a  man  like 
St.  John  to  prepare  copies  of  letters  from  memory 
that  he  had  had  handed  to  me  in  the  past.  Here 
are  my  proofs — look  at  them."  He  placed  an- 
other batch  of  papers  in  the  hands  of  the  District- 
Attorney.  "St.  John  is  a  clever  fellow,  and  he 
knew  what  I  was  here  for,  knew  that  the  man 


320  THE  CATSPAW 

that  had  the  first  say  would  win  out.  It  was  a 
simple  thing  for  him  to  get  off  the  stand  and  walk 
out  in  the  open  air  a  free  man  from  henceforth, 
for,  mark  my  words,  gentlemen,  you  will  never 
find  Kittredge  St.  John!" 

And  they  never  did  find  him. 

Outside  on  the  street  the  idlers  had  seen  a  man 
leap  into  a  long,  low  racer  that  stood  throbbing 
at  the  curb — a  racer  in  which  sat  a  woman  at  the 
wheel, — had  heard  the  squeal  of  the  horn,  had 
seen  the  woman  spasmodically  throw  in  the  clutch, 
and  the  car  suddenly  leap  into  life.  And  then, 
like  a  flash,  man,  woman,  and  car  disappeared. 

As  the  racer  ate  up  the  long  miles  like  fire,  a 
flush  of  shame  crossed  Roxane's  countenance — 
shame  at  her  tremendous  mistake,  but  it  gave  her, 
too,  a  different  kind  of  emotion,  for,  suddenly 
leaning  forward,  she  whispered  excitedly: — 

"  Kitt,  a  life  of  joy  lies  on  ahead.  Faster — 
faster — on ! " 


CHAPTER  XX 

WHAT'S  IN  A  NAME? 

WHAT  Roxane  Bellairs'  little  coterie  of  friends 
regretted  most,  in  talking  over  her  connection  with 
the  affair,  was  their  fragmentary  knowledge  of  it. 
In  vain  they  speculated,  surmised,  and  guessed 
possible  solutions  of  their  problem ;  it  always  ended 
with  a  consciousness  of  the  futility  of  their  efforts. 
One  thing  seemed  certain :  they  would  never  get  to 
the  bottom  of  it  all. 

But  in  that  conclusion,  strangely  enough,  they 
were  in  error.  The  following  morning  there  came 
to  three  of  her  admirers — Major  Holbrook, 
Jerome  Olyphant,  and  Archie  Varnum — a  short, 
delicately  perfumed  note,  requesting  their  pres- 
ence at  "  The  Ivies."  It  read  to  this  effect: 


There  was  a  time  when,  on  the  security  of  my  bonds,  you 
loaned  me  money.  To-morrow  morning  at  eleven  o'clock,  at 
my  home,  I  shall  be  glad  to  cancel  my  obligation. 


To  a  fourth  admirer — Philander  Bonwit — she 

wrote  a  similarly  delicately  perfumed  note,  some- 

321 


322  THE  CATSPAW 

what  shorter,  though  quite  as  much  to  the 
purpose :  "  The  portrait,  my  good  friend,  is 
finished." 

And  so  it  happened  that  on  that  morning  four 

genial  gentlemen  of  the  town  of  M separately 

made  their  way  up  the  long  hill  that  led  to  "  The 
Ivies," — Mrs.  Bellairs'  villa, — three  of  the  four 
carrying  papers  and  packages  of  bonds  which  had 
not  been  disturbed  since  the  deft  fingers  of  Roxane 
had  tied  them  up. 

It  was  with  a  smile  of  unusual  proportion  that 
Mr.  Bonwit  reached  Roxane's  studio  in  the  cupola, 
where  the  butler  informed  him  that  his  mistress 
was  to  be  found.  But  the  smile  of  triumph  on 
Mr.  Bonwit's  face  changed  abruptly  into  an  ex- 
pression of  anxiety  when  he  entered  the  room  and 
found,  to  his  dismay,  his  three  friends  there  be- 
fore him — the  three  men  holding  their  sides  and 
roaring  with  laughter.  Before  them  was  a  fin- 
ished portrait,  but  not  the  portrait  that  Mr.  Bon- 
wit  had  expected  to  see ;  not  that  that  he  had  seen 
begun  with  his  own  eyes,  and  that  he  had  posed 
for;  but  a  portrait,  chiefly  of  Mr.  Bonwit's  back, 
with  the  safe  as  a  background,  before  which  he 
had  been  photographed  by  his  erstwhile  fiancee. 


WHAT'S  IN  A  NAME?  323 

The  round  and  shiny  handle  of  the  combination- 
lock  the  artist  had  sketched  with  wonderful  skill 
into  a  good-sized  mirror,  into  which  the  Bonwit  in 
the  picture  gazed  soulfully  upon  himself,  carefully 
adjusting  his  tie  with  one  hand  and  arranging  his 
scanty  locks  with  the  other.  It  was  Mr.  Bonwit's 
back  to  the  life;  it  crystallised  his  vanity  in  con- 
crete form. 

For  some  moments,  while  his  friends  pointed 
at  him  and  the  portrait  with  derisive  laughter,  Mr. 
Bonwit  grew  hot  and  cold  by  turns.  When  he 
could  trust  himself  to  speak,  he  grasped  Major 
Holbrook  by  the  arm  and  pointed  meaningly  to- 
ward the  background  of  the  picture. 

"  Major,"  he  gasped,  "  doesn't  this  look  like 
the  picture  that  was  used  to  rob  our  safe !  Who — 
why  .  .  ." 

In  an  instant  the  men  sobered.  Instinctively 
they  knew  that  Mr.  Bonwit  was  right :  before  them 
was  the  duplicate — save  for  the  exaggerated  com- 
bination handle  and  the  pursy  figure  of  Mr.  Bon- 
wit— of  the  pseudo-safe  behind  which  Kittredge 
St.  John  had  worked  with  such  ease  in  the  Manu- 
facturers' National  Bank. 

"What  does  it  mean?"  spoke  up  Archie  Var- 


3 24  THE  CATSPAW 

num,  exchanging  glances  of  wonderment  with  the 
others. 

"  We'll  ask  her,"  returned  Olyphant. 

"  But  where  is  she — why  doesn't  she  come  ?  " 
asked  the  Major  uneasily. 

Acting  on  some  inward  note  of  warning,  Major 
Holbrook  drew  forth  the  letter  that  had  sum- 
moned him  to  Mrs.  Bellairs'  house  that  morning; 
Varnum  and  Olyphant  followed  suit,  while  Mr. 
Bonwit  mentally  conned  the  single  message  relat- 
ing to  the  finished  condition  of  the  portrait. 

Presently  a  footman  entered  the  room.  Quickly 
turning  to  him,  the  Major  asked: — 

"  Did  your  mistress  leave  any  word  when  she 
would  return?  " 

"  Nothing,  except  to  tell  you  that  you  should 
make  yourselves  at  home." 

And,  having  dismissed  the  servant,  they  pro- 
ceeded to  discuss  the  situation.  At  length  Archie 
Varnum  declared: — 

"  It's  all  a  puzzle  to  me.  Here  she  puts  up  these 
good  bonds,  borrows  less  than  their  face  value,  and 
then,  apparently,  runs  away.  I'd  rather  have  the 
bonds  than  what  I  loaned  her  on  them." 

11  Would  you,  Archie?"  inquired  Major  Hoi- 


WHAT'S  IN  A  NAME?  325 

brook,  a  new  note  in  his  tone  that  made  the  other 
men  sit  up. 

Without  another  word,  Varnum  proceeded  to 
unwrap  his  little  packet  and,  exhibiting  the  top 
one,  he  asked  excitedly: — 

"What's  the  matter  with  this?"  And  then, 
before  they  could  answer,  he  began  to  thumb  the 
packet,  but,  to  their  wondering  gaze,  drew  forth 
the  worthless  bonds  that  filled  in  between  the  top 
and  the  bottom  one. 

"  Thunderation !  "  exclaimed  Archie.  "  If  she 
hasn't  .  .  . "  He  stopped  short,  his  eyes  eagerly 
following  Major  Holbrook's  examination  of  his 
securities,  only  to  bring  forth  similar  worthless 
paper. 

"Jumpin'  Jerusalem!"  yelled  out  Archie. 
"  Are  you  stung,  too ?  Joyl  Joy!  Joy!" 

Major  Holbrook  turned  pale  and  angry. 

"  I  don't  see  where  the  joy  comes  in,"  he  re- 
torted swiftly.  And,  turning  to  Bonwit,  he  added: 
"  Bonwit,  your  fiancee  is  far  too  clever  for  a  man 
like  you." 

"  I  should  think  she  was,"  muttered  Bonwit, 
growing  red  in  the  face  as  he  spoke.  "  But  there's 
one  thing  I  can  say  that  you  chaps  can't— I 


326  THE  CATSPAW 

didn't  loan  any  money  on  bonds.  It's  a  darn 
shame  ..." 

A  suspicious  moisture  gathered  in  Mr.  Bonwit's 
eyes.  Turning  his  back  upon  his  three  cronies,  he 
stepped  into  the  farther  corner  of  the  room,  where 
he  regained  his  composure  sufficiently  to  slick  his 
hair  and  arrange  his  tie  before  the  mirror  there. 
When  he  returned,  he  observed  calmly: — 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  there's  only  one  mate  for  a 
woman  of  this  kind — our  friend,  Kitt  St.  John." 

Meanwhile,  in  a  different  part  of  the  town,  a 
scene  was  being  enacted  that  was  not  without 
pathos. 

"  I  have  come  to  say  good-bye,"  a  man  was  say- 
ing to  a  girl  who  was  trying  hard  to  control  her 
emotions. 

"  To  say  good-bye,"  she  echoed  faintly.  "  I 
don't  understand  ..." 

1  You  have  heard — you  have  read  the  morning 
papers?  " 

The  girl  shook  her  head. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  do  not  know 
the  story  that  was  told  in  court  before  a  multitude 
of  people?  " 


WHAT'S  IN  A  NAME?  327 

Again  the  girl  shook  her  head  and  murmured  :^ 

"  No — only  a  very  little— I  have  refused  to  see 
the  papers,  to  listen  to  .  .  . " 

The  man  seemed  lost  in  the  extremity  of  won- 
der. He  started  to  speak,  checked  himself,  and 
finally  said  in  a  low  voice : — 

1  You  see  before  you  a  man,  at  whom  one-half 
the  town  laughs — the  other  half  scorns.  On  the 
whole,  I  think  I  would  rather  be  the  clever  scoun- 
drel who  is  cutting  his  way  through  the  dis- 
tance, no  one  knows  where,  than  to  be  the  dupe, 
the  fool,  the  stupid,  blundering  idiot  I  have 
been!" 

"  But,  I  don't  understand  you  1 "  She  looked  up 
at  him  appealingly. 

He  was  silent  a  moment  before  he  broke  out 
again  in  self-upbraidings. 

"  I  say  it  was  dastardly  in  me  to  do  this  thing. 
But,  suffering  as  I  was,  the  temptation  was  too 
great  ..." 

The  girl's  bosom  heaved,  the  tears  rushed  to 
her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  Kitt,  how  could  you — why  did  you  do  it? 
Surely  ..." 

The  man  held  up  his  hand. 


328  THE  CATSPAW 

"  Kitt!  "  he  exclaimed  at  her  use  of  that  name. 
"  How  many  times,"  he  asked,  "  how  many 
times  do  you  think  that  Kittredge  St.  John  has 
been  inside  this  house?  "  Distressed  as  he  was,  he 
half-smiled. 

The  girl  was  puzzled. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered  mechanically. 
"  How  many  times  has  he — how  many  times  have 
you  been  here?  " 

"  Kittredge  St.  John,"  went  on  the  man,  "  has 
been  here  only  once;  that  once  was  the  night  he 
burglarised  your  house." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  the  girl.  She  was  dazed. 
"Only  once,  Kitt!" 

"  I  am  not  Kittredge  St.  John;  I  am  .  .  . "  He 
did  not  give  her  time  to  interpose  a  word,  but  went 
on  rapidly  to  say :  "  Dorothy,  I  have  come  to  say 
good-bye.  You  will  soon  know  why  I  would  give 
anything  almost  if  you  had  read — if  you  had  heard 
my  story  from  other  people.  It  would  save  me 
much  humiliation,  spared  you  this  explanation. 
You  know,"  he  continued,  "  that,  time  and  time 
again,  I  have  promised  to  explain  the  strange  mys- 
tery that  enveloped  me.  In  fact,  many  times  I 
have  been  on  the  point  of  telling  you,  but,  even 


WHAT'S  IN  A  NAME?  329 

when  I  knew  the  truth  in  all  its  hideousness,  I 
still  kept  faith  with  the  man  whom,  somehow,  I 
had  learned  to  look  upon  as  a  benefactor — the 
man  who,  at  last,  has  well-nigh  ruined  me.  But 
now,  if  you  will  hear  me  to  the  end,  I  will  tell 
you  everything." 

Dorothy's  lips  quivered,  but  she  did  not  speak. 
Whereupon,  without  excuse  of  any  kind,  without 
sparing  himself  in  any  way,  he  told  her  the  same 
story  that  had  been  told  in  the  courtroom  the  day 
before  and  that  was  literally  being  heralded  from 
the  house-tops.  When  he  had  concluded,  he  turned 
to  her  and  said  somewhat  sadly:  "  I  would  like  to 
hear  you  say,  Dorothy,  that  you  forgive  me;  then 
I'll  go." 

The  girl  stood  motionless.  She  was  overpow- 
ered with  what  she  had  heard — the  mystery,  the 
exposure,  and,  above  all,  the  weakness  of  the  man 
who  faced  her.  After  a  while,  she  said  in  a  low 
voice : — 

"  But  where  are  you  going — why  should  you 
go  ...  ?" 

"  Ah,  you  don't  understand,"  he  answered 
thoughtfully.  "  From  the  standpoint  of  the  town, 
my  position  is  not  an  enviable  one.  They  know 


330  THE  CATSPAW 

me  as  a  catspaw,  an  under-dog.  And  yet  .  .  ." 
He  shrugged  his  shoulders  hopelessly. 

Impulsively  the  girl  crossed  the  room  and  laid 
her  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  you're  not  going  to  leave 
town,  you're  going  to  stay  right  here  and  face 
what  there  is  to  face — show  the  people  that  you're 
not  afraid  to  bear  the  brunt  of  their  cavil  and 
criticism." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you'll  forgive  me — 
that  you  can  forgive  .  .  ." 

"  Forgive !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  There  is  noth- 
ing for  me  to  forgive." 

"  But  surely  you  must  despise  me,"  he  went 
on,  his  face  white  and  set.  "  Fortunately,  though, 
the  town  knows  but  little  of  our  relations, 
for  I  took  good  care,  while  I  believed  in  St. 
John,  that  none  should  know  about  you  and 
myself." 

"  But  how  can  I  despise  you,"  she  murmured 
softly,  "when  I  love  you  as  I  do?" 

'You  have  said  it,  Dorothy;  it  remained  for 
you  to  say  it ;  I  couldn't  even  hope  that  you  would 
say  it."  He  laughed.  It  was  good  to  hear  him. 
There  were  relief  and  joy  and  happiness  in  that 


WHAT'S  IN  A  NAME?  331 

free  laugh  of  his.    But  it  lasted  only  a  moment, 
for  soon  his  face  grew  grave  again. 

"  Why,  it  is  not  possible !  "  he  said.     "  I  am 
looked  upon  as  an  outcast,  a   .    .    ." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  she  interrupted,  look- 
ing him  full  in  the  face,  "that  there  is  nothing 
in  this  world  worth  while  but  public  opinion  ?  Do 
you  mean  to  say  that  two  people,  who  have  been 
bound  together  as  you  and  I  have,  can  be  sepa- 
rated by  the  fear  of  public  opinion?  Is  your  na- 
ture no  deeper  than  that?"  She  paused.  "I 
would  not  say  this — perhaps  I  ought  not  to  say 
this — if  I  did  not  think  that  you  really  loved  me. 
I  can't  tell  you  how  much  relieved  I  am  to  have 
heard  your  story  from  your  own  lips,  to  know  that 
you  are  really  the  man  that  I  had  hoped  you  were. 
For  if  ever  a  girl  in  this  world  doubted  the  man 
she  loved — yes,  I  admit  it,  I  have  doubted  you. 
Of  course  when  you  were  with  me  I  believed  you 
against  all  reason,  but  when  you  were  away  I 
could  do  nothing  but  reason  against  all  belief. 
But,  if  you  think,"  she  continued  in  a  lighter  vein, 
"  that  you  can  escape  from  an  entangling  alliance 
by  the  argument  that  you  have  advanced  this 
morning,  you  are  very  much  mistaken.  For  there 


332  THE  CATSPAW 

are  two  parties  to  every  compact,  and  in  this  case 
I  happen  to  be  one  of  them." 

She  stopped  and  moved  towards  him.  He  took 
her  in  his  arms,  a  look  of  Capture  succeeding  the 
look  of  wonder  in  his  eyes. 

Presently  he  put  her  away  from  him,  and,  squar- 
ing his  shoulders,  he  said : — 

"  But  let  me  tell  you  this,  dear,  before  we  go 
any  further.  I'm  going  to  live  down  all  the  past, 
prove  to  you  and  everybody  that  I'm  not  what 
they  think  I  am,  that  I'm  not  a  catspaw,  but  a 
man;  and  when  I've  done  that,  and  not  a  day 
before,  Dorothy,  will  I  claim  you  for  my 


own." 


Her  face  was  radiant  as  she  raised  her  lips  to 
his. 

"  But  I've  claimed  you,  Kitt,"  she  whispered 
softly  to  him. 

To  his  surprise,  he  found  himself  laughing. 

"  But  please  remember  that  I'm  not  Kitt  ..." 

Dorothy  made  a  little  moue  and  glanced  archly 
into  his  eyes.  She  placed  both  hands  confidingly 
upon  his  straight  shoulders,  and,  as  he  gathered 
her  in  his  arms,  she  looked  up  into  his  face  and 
whispered : — 


WHAT'S  IN  A  NAME?  333' 

"There's  one  thing,  though,  that  you  haven't 
told  me,  one  thing  I  want  very  much  to  know." 

"And  what  is  that?"  he  answered,  smiling 
down  upon  her. 

"(Your  name,"  she  told  him  coyly. 


THE   END 


UNIVERSm  «  CAUFORKU  UBRARV 

Los  Angele- 


This 


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JUL221986 


qDate:  860627  Status:  SHIPPED 
ecDate:       RenewalReq: 
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1873-1942. 


Company  ,  1911. 

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